


Of Three Faces

by kamikaze43v3r



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Drama, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Game, Pre-Slash, Shura Ending, Slow Burn, bottom!Genichiro, eventual intimacy, romantic sex, top!Wolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-02-27 05:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamikaze43v3r/pseuds/kamikaze43v3r
Summary: "I hereby forsake my master, the Divine Heir."Ashina falls, decimated by both the Ministry and the demon that is said to lurk the land. Few survived the massacre at Ashina.Unknown to many, the grandson of the Sword Saint yet lives. Not much is known of his fate in the years that passed since the fall of the clan, but there are rumours of an Ashina survivor wandering the ruins of a once powerful land seeking out the demon.A story of coping with change and redemption.





	1. Chapter 1

_I hereby forsake my master, the Divine Heir._

The words spill past his lips with little hesitance. The Iron Code is absolute. He has no master.

Emma the Gentle Blade appears. She is cut down; her blade is too soft to oppose against a demon, but the old Isshin Ashina comes to stop him before he can deliver the killing blow. She retreats under the lord’s orders to take Kuro away.

“You can’t be Shura!” his former master exclaims in disbelief, his voice cracking from betrayal. Emma, even in her weakened and bloodied state, whisks the young Heir away.

Isshin takes his attention. The clan patriarch is formidable, even in his advanced age. But it is because of that and his illness that Sekiro executes him with some ease. He is an expectedly difficult opponent, but since he is far from his prime, the old man cannot stand against a newly born Shura.

No one can oppose him now. Not even his father, the Great Shinobi known as Owl. The Wolf is power and the Wolf is strength. War and violence is what he thrives in, and it is evident in the burning feeling in his chest, the heat of it spreading through his body, even in his false arm. Sekiro, the one-armed Wolf, the Shura, takes the Black Mortal Blade from his father’s corpse.

With both Mortal Blades in his possession, he is unstoppable. No human, no demon or even immortal can escape his wrath. Together with Kusabimaru, now a memento of his disloyalty, the Wolf  doesn’t need a master. He will be his own.

Ashina falls, decimated by both the Ministry and the demon that is said to lurk the land.

Few survived the massacre at Ashina.

Unknown to many, the grandson of the Sword Saint yet lives. It was believed that one of the shinobi had assassinated him and stole the Black Mortal Blade, but the only truth was the latter. The general was survived by the hands of loyal retainers, who found his unconscious body and carried him away to the neighbouring ally territory.

Not much is known of his fate in the years that passed since the fall of the clan, but there are rumours of an Ashina survivor wandering the ruins of a once powerful land seeking out the demon.

\-------+-------

The temple in the outskirts is dilapidated and nearly crumbling. Covered in old talismans, they give the building haunting look, and within it are countless carved wooden statues, all of the Buddha. Their faces look peaceful, but a glance one may catch a glimpse of a wrathful expression. They pile atop one another haphazardly like stiff corpses. In the middle of the temple, a single candle and a rotten straw mat lay with a carving tool on it. The candle is alight, as if someone had just lit it, the only sign of life.

But Genichiro sees no one present. He doesn’t sense anything in the vicinity. As empty and barren as the rest of what once was Ashina.

The man steps out of the temple. He is no longer the young master of Ashina, nor is he a respected descendant of a legendary swordsman. Where he once wore grand, finely made armour of a general, he is now dressed simply in dark red robes with only his sword tucked to his side. Genichiro Ashina looks more like a wandering, masterless samurai than a nobleman.

A humble restart for the former Ashina lord.

He walks to the smaller shrine at the side of the temple. It is as worn down as the temple. The offering box has a few coins in it, but that is all. The former general stares at it before he drops a few coins from his own pouch before turning to leave.

Genichiro walks through from the outskirts to the fortress. There are still traces of war and remains of fallen soldiers littered throughout the land. Even after all these years, the land remains empty, avoided like the plague due to the existence of a wandering demon. He's seen some of the corpses bearing the demon's wrath.

Genichiro can only give prayers for them as he passes. He walks until he reaches the fortress gate by the castle. Right before it is the expanse of a former battlefield littered with wood pieces of broken fencing and collapsed watchtowers. It’s almost empty, with whatever traces of bodies have already decomposed to dust from weather and time. All of the sights are familiar, but all of them are in ruins with crumbling walls and charred wood.

As Genichiro approaches the dilapidated gate, he senses a formidable presence behind him. Whirling around with his hand on his sword, he sees a lone figure standing in the middle of the field.

The silhouette is familiar, with long black hair tied back, frayed, clothes dyed red and singed black from blood and fire. The scarf around the figure’s neck is dark and heavy, as if a noose. They look like any normal man, except for their eyes. Bright glowing red eyes that smolder like embers, with the tinge of scarlet pink that the Ashina survivor knows it to associate with curse of the Divine Dragon. Their left arm is grotesquely slender compared to their right, and it is wrapped in almost soft pink-red flames. Genichiro recognises this figure, this Shura.

“...Shinobi of the Divine Heir,” he mutters under his breath. It has been years since he said that, since his defeat against the shinobi, and against Owl. “No, you no longer have a master. You are Shura.”

Genichiro immediately draws his blade, knowing the danger this creature possesses. After all, the Shura had not only killed Owl, but also Isshin, his grandfather, who was also known as the Sword Saint.

Genichiro has been training consistently the past years for this day, to get his revenge. He had failed his grandfather, his clan, and had to live with the shame of being the last survivor. He has to restore not only his own honour but of his clan’s, then he will finally find peace.

But the Shura remains unmoved, merely staring at him. Genichiro briefly wonders if the man, the Shura even recognises him at all. The thought of being forgotten by his rival has him squeezing the grip of his sword. He has cursed the man every day since he found himself recovering with the late Dogen’s daughter Emma by his side, together with the Divine Heir.

The last thing he had remembered was the Great Shinobi coming at him with his sword drawn.

He must have been knocked out, or perhaps his resurrection did not trigger immediately for some reason and the Owl had assumed him dead and left. The power of the Rejuvenating Sediment still runs through his veins, and even up to this moment, it would be hard for Genichiro to truly die. But he has his chance now to make use of that power and though the Shura before him is a formidable creature, Genichiro will not lose this chance of getting his honour back.

Without a word, he charges towards the Shura with his improved Spiral Cloud Passage technique. He knows he’s elevated his skills in the past years, albeit perhaps still out of reach of his grandfather’s level, but he is confident he won’t lose to anyone this time, not even to  the Shinobi of the Divine Heir. The flurry of attacks he delivers is executed with blinding speed, and yet the Shura parried all of them with relative ease. The Shura knocks him back with a roar and a surge of blazing fire surrounding him. Genichiro feels the heat of it burning his skin but he is not afraid of fire. After all, lightning is far more fearsome.

The Shura snarls at him with teeth bared. Like a starving, snarling wolf, the demon has his sights fixed on Genichiro, his prey. With his left arm the Shura draws out a different sword.

Genichiro recognises the other sword to be the Red Mortal Blade. His eyes immediately seeks out the third sword he'd noticed that is strapped to the Shura’s back. A weapon that was once wielded by Genichiro himself, the Black Mortal Blade. The former Ashina lord can only grit his teeth at the sight of what was his in the Shura’s possession and tightens his grip on his own sword. The sight of the Shura before him is a sight to behold, and with the two blades wielded in both hands, the figure perfectly fits the image of what one would think of a Shura, a demon of war. The swords glisten  in the light of the fire and the sun, mocking Genichiro with a glimpse of hell fire.

Any lesser man would have fled in terror, but Genichiro is not. He has gone through countless nightmares to achieve his current strength and abilities. He will not flee, not even from a demon.

He attacks the Shura again and again. The demon reciprocates his attacks, swinging both blades at him with the familiar technique and strength he’s experienced before. Genichiro knows that there is little to no chance of survival against a Shura and especially not against one with a sword that can kill even an Undying.

But his grandfather had always called him stubborn, hard-headed, but to Genichiro it is tenacity and determination. He relentlessly attacks the Shura, employing every combat art and ability in his arsenal. But almost every attack is blocked or parried, while the Shura counters, slicing at his body with both blades. From how hard the demon hits, it takes a toll on Genichiro's posture and balance, which would leave the former Ashina lord completely vulnerable if broken. If they were to continue at this rate, Genichiro would be in danger of bleeding out or taken advantage of.

Thankfully, the Shura does not seem to be as agile as he was when he was human. Like a mindless creature, the Shura focuses more on brute force than tactical skill, only seeking to destroy and draw blood. Genichiro knows he can make use of that flaw to his advantage. He would have to change his tactics. He will overcome whatever it takes to bring down the demon down. He will attain victory over the demon and avenge the people of Ashina!

Taking a deep breath, Genichiro jumps off the ground with both hands raising his sword. Heavy rain clouds gather in an odd, swirling motion above them. Thunder rumbles like the growl of a divine creature and lightning strikes down upon his blade. This is the Lightning of Tomoe, still the greatest of his techniques. He feels the electricity charge the air and buzz through the blade and into him. But it's not enough. This time Genichiro calls upon more and more lightning, buffing the technique until four continuous chains of electricity shrouds his blade.

The Shura below him stops in its tracks, looking up at him with a grimace full of sharp teeth. Genichiro sees the Shura’s eyes widen and the demon seems stunned by the sight of his power. It is an expression that invigorates him, the sense of power he has over his opponent. But just for a moment, he thinks he sees a glint of recognition in the Shura’s face. It's not enough to stop him. Genichiro brings his blade down to bring the wrath of the gods onto the demon, and he lets out a blood curdling inhuman cry as four consecutive bolts of lightning rain onto him.

It’s a sound that makes Genichiro step back, a noise of pure agony and anguish that vibrates and reaches his own bones. He can almost feel the Shura’s pain, a sharp, piercing sensation in his head as the demon drops his swords and falls to his knees.

Taking that chance, Genichiro runs around the Shura and grabs for the Black Mortal Blade that is still strapped to its back. If any weapon can kill a Shura, it would certainly be a Mortal Blade. With no hesitation, Genichiro draws the sword from its sheath and thrusts it through the Shura’s chest with all of his strength. Blood spurts out from the wound. It’s a clear stab through its heart. The attack abruptly cuts off the Shura’s screams. Clearly the attack connected, but why did the sudden silence make Genichiro nervous? A chill of anxiety runs through him and he feels cold sweat forming on his forehead. Did he succeed?

The flames surrounding the grotesque, prosthetic left arm begins to fade away. It soon vanishes and all that is left is the charred bone and metal of its original material with bits of burnt wood. Genichiro has yet to see the Shura’s expression. But just as he is about to move, the Shura collapses on its front with blood pooling under him.

When Genichiro cautiously turns over the lifeless body, he is surprised to see the visage of a normal man. The human face of the Divine Heir’s former Shinobi. Wolf, if he remembered what the Heir had called him. He looks as if he hadn’t aged a day, but his stubble is heavier, his skin more haggard, and the white marking on his face and hair seems to have spread to nearly half of his face. No other trace of the Shura is left on him.

Genichiro raises the Black Mortal Blade again. Anger and disgust fills his heart the longer he stares at the man. Because of him continuously getting in his way, he’d failed to get the power of the Divine Heir. If this shinobi didn’t exist, if he hadn’t gotten in his way, Genichiro could have gotten the Dragon’s blood, could have been able to turn the tides against the Interior Ministry and Ashina would still be standing!

With an anguished yell, Genichiro thrusts the blade towards the unconscious man’s heart.


	2. Chapter 2

When he wakes, he sees the rotten wood of the ceiling. It is both familiar and nostalgic, a view of a memory from some time ago. He rolls to his side and props himself up on his right arm. He sees a figure in darkness with their back facing towards him, only illuminated by the dim flickering light of a small, lone candle. For a moment, he thinks he sees the Sculptor. But while this figure is wearing red, they look completely different from the withered old man he knew. This person sits upright in seiza position, in robes of a darker red and has a larger, broader figure with longer black hair falling loose over their shoulders. 

Said figure appears to have their head lowered, as if looking down at something. But he doesn't call out to them yet. He is trying to gather his thoughts. It feels like he just got out of a long dream, and his body is aching. His chest, especially, has a stinging, piercing pain. 

When he looks down, he sees that his clothes are more tattered and filthy. Almost black with blood, soot and soil. In the middle of his chest is a faded scar that he does not recognize. But that’s not all. His prosthetic arm is charred as well, the bone cracked and caked in dirt. His scarf has been laid to the side, folded neatly, but it’s as filthy as his clothes. Eventually, the Wolf looks to the sitting figure and parts his lips in an attempt to talk.

“Awake, finally?” the figure says before he can even speak up. The same figure turns around, and the Wolf’s heart nearly stops. It’s not only because the face he sees is of Genichiro Ashina, but also because the man clearly looks older, with slight wrinkles and heavy stubble along his jaw. How much time has passed?

“How long…” the Wolf tries to ask. His mouth is dry, and his throat feels like sandpaper. His voice sounds hoarse. The man sitting in front of him is expressionless, but Wolf can see a familiar anger and desperation in his eyes. Though he’s not sure how long it’s been, he knows that look has only intensified.

“Unconscious for three days,” the former Ashina lord replies curtly. “Seven years since Ashina fell.”

_ Thanks to you _ , are the unsaid words, but the Wolf can almost hear them in Genichiro’s voice. But what the man had said gave him pause. It’s been seven years… That long? In that amount of time, anything could have happened. The first thought he has is of Kuro, his master - or  _ former _ master, whom he’d betrayed. He remembers that evening, with his foster father reciting the Iron Code to him and issuing the order to betray his master. What was he thinking?

There is a sense of remorse in his heart. Remorse for betraying the young child who had trusted him with his life. That he had bit the hand that offered him compassion and kindness. Wolf slowly begins to remember more of that evening. The stench of blood, the clash of swords and the heat of the fire. He was the one who had gravely injured Emma, cut down the ailing Isshin Ashina, and even killed his own foster father. 

Truly, he had become a monster. 

And all those lives after that, no matter they were from the Ministry or of Ashina, women, elder or child, he’d cut them all. His blades and clothes had been dyed red with blood and the pungent stench of iron was fragrant and intoxicating. Whoever he came across in the battlefield were for him to slay. Shura only hunger for war, an addict for violence and death. Yet, as if he's only woken up from a mild dream, the Wolf merely feels numb at the weight of his actions.

The Wolf can still feel the itch of the demon in him, heavy in his chest. The lingering presence of a creature that thirsts for blood and violence scratching at the back of his mind wanting to get out. With no repercussions after death, it is easier to feed his addiction for strife. It is no wonder his young lord had seen the Divine Dragon blood as a curse. 

He glances at the blades laid by the side of the other man. Genichiro’s own sword, and the other three were his own, or used to be. Does he even deserve to wield Kusabimaru now? It is a memento of his treachery. He lowers his head in shame. 

“You still have the Dragon’s blood flowing through you,” Genichiro says, bringing the Wolf’s attention back to him. “I’ve stabbed you through the heart with the Mortal Blade yet you still live. Truly, you are no longer human.”

“....” Wolf stares at the man, taking his words in. He recalls the sound of thunder and the blinding light of electricity in the sky. Whenever thunderstorms rain over the lands, those were his clearest moments. The image of the man who constantly chased after his lord for power, and his drive to protect his lord from the same man. What happened to all that loyalty? Has all the blood lust in killing his lord’s enemies taken his sense of self?

Even his own father, the one who picked him up from the field of the dead… The pain in his chest flares up enough for Wolf to cough and wheeze. He clutches at his chest with his prosthetic hand. The man sitting in front of him only gazes at him with cold eyes, unmoved. 

“Where is -”  _ Lord Kuro _ , he wanted to ask, but he knows he does not deserve to know. He takes a deep breath and speaks clearly. “How is Lord Kuro?”

Genichiro’s cold gaze narrows as he scrutinises the Wolf. He does not respond, turning away to look back at whatever he was looking at before and completely ignores the Wolf. Sighing, Wolf sits up properly and folds his legs under him. He looks up and stares at the familiar piles of carved statues surrounding them. The large one at the side where he’d offer bells is still standing, but the offerings are no longer there. The Wolf wonders what has become of the Sculptor. He can only barely remember a wild beast of flame as a Shura, but he is not sure if that was just a delusion. He only knows that the image reminded him of the man who had saved his life and aided him. 

“I owe him a debt. And all you are allowed to know is that he is somewhere you can never reach,” Genichiro responds to his question belatedly. With his thoughts interrupted, Wolf is a little surprised that the man would even deign him a response, but it’s more than what he expected. For all he knew, what the other man meant could be that his lord had died, slain by his own hands and they had him buried in an unknown place where Wolf may never be able to get to. The thought makes him tremble, but it is the consequence of his actions. He dares not to think further about it.

“... I see,” the Wolf murmurs.

Genichiro does not acknowledge his response.

The Wolf goes back to staring at the Buddha statue, still contemplating. It is as Genichiro had said - he may no longer be Shura, but he is not human either, so what is he? Is he still in danger of becoming Shura again?  He is now a rogue Shinobi. Nameless, masterless, with no purpose. Genichiro had said that he’d cut him down, but why does he still breathe? Truly, it is a curse to have the Dragon's blood, just like what his master believed. 

The Wolf’s eyes return to the swords still lying by Genichiro, who catches him looking. He wonders what the former lord sees that makes  the man promptly pick the swords up.

He doesn’t speak to Wolf as he stands and straps all of the swords to himself, even Kusabimaru, leaving the Wolf without a weapon. It is probably better that way. Even Wolf does not trust himself with any weapon at the moment. Whether he would harm himself or the other, both situations may not end up the way he’d want.

Genichiro leaves the temple without a word, and the Wolf doesn’t ask. He doesn’t care if the man leaves him there in the temple forever. It would feel almost fitting to rot away in this place and be lost to time.

The evening sun slowly sinks past the horizon, the orange sky darkening into purple, and soon shadows fill the corners of the building. Wolf remains where he is, staring blankly at the shades, his imagination projecting faces of the dead into them. Only the candles around the main statue lights up the room and prevents the shadows from coming closer.

Somehow, the Wolf spots a wooden block at the corner of the room, hidden right behind one of the piled statues. Something moves in him and he feels the sudden urge to take it. With nothing else to do, the Wolf shakily gets to his feet and approaches it.

\-------+-------

When Genichiro returns, he sees the injured man hunched over near the candle light. He had expected the rogue shinobi to either disappear or move elsewhere, but not in the temple, hunched over suspiciously. Cautiously, Genichiro tightens his grip on the rabbits he’d hunted and readies a hand over his Black Mortal Blade. He approaches the figure quietly.

“What are you doing,” Genichiro demands, already hovering the tip of the blade over the Shinobi’s neck. The man does not seem surprised by his return. When Genichiro peeks over the man’s shoulder he realizes that the Shinobi is carving at a wooden block. He also realizes that the man had taken off his prosthetic and laid most of his gear to the side, only wrapping himself in a loose robe. Where the Shinobi found it, Genichiro didn’t know, but the man appears entirely defenceless.

The Wolf does not reply, appearing almost to be in a trance as he wordlessly continues his work on the wood. He doesn’t even turn to look at Genichiro.

The Ashina decides to let it go after a hesitant minute. He backs away from the one-armed Wolf and goes back out to get the fire started to roast the rabbits. He does not invite the other out, but he does leave out an share of rabbit meat. For himself or for another, Genichiro will not say. The former general had not planned on staying in such a rundown temple, and he will not be resting anywhere near a conscious Shura. He’d only stayed in the temple while the other was unconscious just so he can keep an eye on any changes to him. Genichiro hadn't even given much medical help to the Wolf other than the handmade salves he’d brought along. The rest of the man’s healing was of the man’s own inhuman recovery speed, aided by the Dragon blood. He’d stayed just to make sure the man doesn’t wake up rampaging. 

Genichiro has discovered the nearby tunnel and seen the rotating door that the Shinobi use, but it’s no longer working. At least the cave is more habitable compared to the drafty, run down temple. As a precaution against a possible Shura, he sets traps by the cave entrance he’d learned some from his grandfather, and even the Nightjar Shinobi who served him. He would certainly know if anyone tries to enter.

However, what is his next plan? Genichiro had wanted to slay the Shura and gain back his clan’s glory. He had done exactly that, but the Shura - the man is still alive. He had not felt anything when he first cut him down, and something in him tells Genichiro that it would remain the same way even if he killed the man again and again, no matter how many times he resurrected. There was only emptiness, perhaps due to the anticlimactic ending. He had wanted to cut off the demon's head in the middle of battle, while his own life is on the verge of ending, but what he got instead was the look of the familiar man who had defeated him over and over again.

Unable to explain his own strange actions of sparing the shinobi, Genichiro can only feel anger towards himself. Frustration mixes with exhaustion and the hollowness in his soul grows larger. His emotions are mixed, feeling restless at what’s occurred over the past few days.

What had disturbed him the most was that look of remorse on the former Shinobi’s face when he inquired about his master. The same master he had betrayed. Genichiro could not understand how the man still had the gall to ask after his master when he had chosen to take the path of betrayal. If they were still in Ashina, he would have had the Shinobi executed. But… that wasn’t his place was it? The man did not serve him, but the Divine Heir.

The Shinobi had been so loyal to his master that Genichiro had asked the shinobi why he was so devoted to such a young man. He had only understood it when he experienced the boy’s kindness himself. For adults, they would call it naivete; a young one’s mistake. Genichiro had learned growing up that compassion is a weakness to strength. But even so, he still owed the Divine Heir his life. Perhaps, sparing his shinobi’s life is what his way of repaying that debt. 

Kuro has grown up to be a fine young man. Still compassionate, still mature. He and Emma have made a life making sweets and rice balls in the town they are now in, and living like any other peasant. A humble life away from the madness and chaos of politics but also a fragile one that is constantly in danger of collapsing when the next war inevitably arrives. He knows Emma, with her gentleness, deserves the same peace, and also knows that with her sword skills, she is capable of defending the Divine Heir. 

The only difference in Kuro is that the young man appears to be more shut off emotionally. When Genichiro had first woken from his momentary coma he'd seen the puffy red eyes and the heard the soft whistling that sounded much like a call to another. It is clear that his Shinobi’s betrayal had affected him.

Genichiro never offered him any words other than that one single gratitude since he’d recovered and he’s only occasionally checked in on the two before he left for his own life and returning to Ashina. He never told them of his plan to return here too, and it is better that way. Both of them have a life now, while he is still shackled to the past, clinging on to the name of a fallen clan. There is no place for a ghost of the past to fit in with them.

The last Ashina survivor lays on his side, facing the mouth of the cave and closes his eyes. As he continues to think of the past years he'd spent recovering and training, he falls asleep to the sound of the wind outside and dreams of fire and lightning.


	3. Chapter 3

The two of them do not speak to each other in the following days. Genichiro does his best to avoid the shinobi, while Wolf remains isolated in the temple, fixed in his position before the main altar, carving away at the wooden blocks. A small pile of crude wooden statues has begun to form beside him.

Genichiro goes out to explore and look around the Ashina ruins. He wanders through the forest and the collapsed castle grounds, kicking away dirt and debris, picking up random things he recognizes. He is aimless, like a wandering ghost, though occasionally he comes across a peddler or a travelling merchant, trading food and supplies with them. They exchange small talk and information sometimes, but usually they part from Genichiro with a warning about the demon lurking the land.

But that demon is gone. Most of him, at least. Genichiro is still unsure of his thoughts about the shinobi-turned-hermit. The man had not moved from the temple. He didn’t eat or drink, though whatever extra food Genichiro leaves outside by the fire is gone in the next morning. Thinking about it, Genichiro realises he has not seen the Wolf’s face since that day too. He wonders if the man looks more like a spectre now than a demon. The former general can only sense emptiness in the former shinobi. He knows because he recognizes that same emptiness in himself. 

Sometimes the former lord travels further, off to Senpou Temple. The monks are the same, still corrupted and infested with vermin, but they glance at him and leaves him be. He no longer has the status of lord, and it has already been years. His current state would not influence them. Genichiro does the same and keeps his distance. He heeds their warning, skirting only the edges of the temples to scavenge for herbs and take in the fresh mountain air. Despite all the heretical activities the monks have conducted, the temples and their surrounding areas remain pristine. It is ironic and the thought of it makes Genichiro queasy. He doesn’t stay long.

He returns to the temple to find it empty. Genichiro is a little startled and somewhat panicked; his first thought is that the man had hidden himself in order to ambush him. He already has a hand on his sword, but when he looks around he senses no one. It is empty. He goes back to the cave to confirm it is empty, before he goes to the hidden area where he’s stashed the other swords. Everything is untouched and in its place, so where has the rogue shinobi gone?

He shouldn’t be worrying. What did it matter if the man died? He should have died by Genichiro’s hands, anyway, but the thought of the man not dying by his hand this time irritates him. Had he gone through a relapse and returned to his Shura state?

Just as he steps out of the cave he hears footsteps. He sees the person walking past the gate carrying two large black roosters. Genichiro doesn't fail to notice the prosthetic limb. The two of them look to each other in brief surprise before one of them recovers. The Wolf looks a little pale, his expression blank and a little tired, but he looks better than he did after he woke up.

“...Dinner,” the Wolf says, nodding his head to the birds. Genichiro stares at the roosters, still a little stunned. The shinobi continues to carry in the birds and places them next to the fire pit before he begins to light a fire. Genichiro follows him wordlessly and does his own share, plucking off the feathers from one of the birds.

This is their first interaction in a long time, but it lacked the awkwardness that Genichiro expected. They did their work preparing the birds, with the Wolf gutting them and Genichiro taking some of the herbs he'd collected to flavour the meat. 

It somehow felt… domestic. But they continue to remain silent until the birds are cooked and they begin their feast.

“Wanted a change of meat,” the Wolf admits after the first bite of the roast. Genichiro keeps quiet. He's aware he has only mostly brought back rabbit or deer. The roosters aren't his first choice due to how aggressive they are. Too much hassle, but he knows it sounds almost silly and doesn't speak of it.

The meat is delicious and filling. Genichiro is just thinking about having drinks when the other man surprises him yet again by bringing out a familiar looking bottle. 

“I found this,” Wolf murmurs. He offers the bottle to Genichiro, who stares back at him with a frown. “It's not poison.”

Genichiro sneers at the comment but takes the offered drink. Since they have no cups, he'd have to drink it from the bottle. He takes a sniff of it and immediately recognizes the smell. He takes a sip and finds himself momentarily closing his eyes, humming a pleased sound.

“Ashina sake,” Genichiro sighs. It’s been a while since he’s tasted the wine of his home land. An unrecognisable feeling tugs at his chest but the man pushes it aside and takes another sip. He’s considerate enough to leave some for the shinobi. “Thank you,” he says as he passes the wine back.

He catches the man staring at him with a peculiar look. Genichiro suddenly feels embarrassed at the scrutiny, realizing he’s bared too much of himself, too open to another person, especially with someone he’s supposed to kill. “Take it,” Genichiro insists when the shinobi doesn’t move to accept the bottle.

“It’s for you,” the Wolf simply replies and turns away to resume his meal.

Genichiro raises an eyebrow in surprise but says nothing either. He appreciates the gesture, and continues to nurse the bottle, enjoying the nostalgic taste. It’s a peaceful moment, and Genichiro wonders if this is what could have been if the man chose to serve under him instead.

He doesn’t dare to think further than that.

The moment lasts only for a few hours. They part in a rather amicable manner, both of them returning to their own corners. The Wolf returns to the temple to carve his statues, while Genichiro heads back into the cave. He stops short right before the cave and glances at the retreating back of the man entering the temple.

Genichiro's body is still warm from the wine, and the night is comfortably cool. He thinks he will have a decent sleep tonight.

The following morning the Wolf is missing again. It irritates Genichiro without a proper reason, to not know where the man is. He isn’t worried, but he is cautious and nervous. Every day he would check on the Mortal Blades he’s stashed away. They are too precious to be discarded, and Genichiro has yet to find a proper place to hide them. For now he will keep them until he is sure the Shura is truly gone and there is no longer any need for the Mortal Blades’ use.

He tries to track the man’s footpath but he is truly a shinobi, no trace of him to be found. He heads back into the dilapidated temple to look over the room. It's the first time he's back in there since the Wolf woke up.

The candle in the middle is still alight despite how drafty the temple is. He sees the pile of carved statues, each of them crude but he can see some improvement amongst the pile. He wonders who was the one who carved all the statues before the shinobi did and wonders if they had a connection. The rogue shinobi appeared to be familiar with the place.

Gingerly, Genichiro picks up one of the statues. It is still amateur work but he notices the face. Its features are rough and misshapen but it is clear that the expression is one of near serenity. The only slight is that the ends of the mouth are curved slightly downward.

Genichiro has never been a particularly religious man. He'd prayed to Buddha and deities but he has no attachment to the divine except for what exists in their realms. The gods did not favour them or aided in protecting Ashina. If they did, he wouldn’t have taken drastic measures like looking into the Rejuvenating Waters and the letting Doujun study forbidden arts in the dungeon. Looking over at the piles of statues, the former lord senses regret and repentance. Is the Wolf sculpting such crude carvings to repent for his sins?

Genichiro drops the statue back in its place and walks out of the temple. The day is no longer bright with the skies blanketed by heavy grey. It is going to rain soon.

\---+---

The Wolf treads carefully through Mount Kongo. It has been a while since he was last here in the Senpou Temple grounds, consciously at least. He wonders if he, as a Shura, ever attempted to attack the corrupted monks. But maybe even with all the tainted arts that has filled the monks’ hearts, the grounds are still sacred and enough to keep demons like him away. Perhaps it is a sign of a chance that the monks are repenting. But he can’t assume, so he passes anyone's notice in the main temple and slips to the Inner Sanctum. He had wondered if that child is still here.

He has his prosthetic as a means to protect himself but he is still swordless. It is best to avoid any conflict. As he takes quiet steps into the forbidden area, he peeks into the room with paintings, scattered scrolls and altars. He sees the familiar figure in white seated in the middle facing the altar.

She is older than he last saw her. A grown young woman with fair skin and sable black hair. It has been many years after all. The only surviving Divine Child of the Rejuvenating Waters turns her head towards the entrance. Her eyes widen in surprise before they slightly narrow in recognition. 

“You are… The Shinobi of the Divine Heir!”

“...” the Wolf is not sure what to tell her. That he is now without a master due to his own doing. So he opts not to reply. The young woman seems to know something is bothering him. 

“Ah.. It has been many years. I thought, along with Ashina, you had… ” the girl sounds sad as she speaks of it but beckons the former shinobi in. Wolf obliges. He had wanted to see a familiar face. “It is good to see you, Shinobi of the Divine Heir. After all these years, have you returned here for good?”

“...I suppose I will be around,” is all he can say as he stands beside her. He doesn't explain, letting her think of his answer as she'd like. The girl looks over him, studying his appearance.

“Ashina has fallen and there is a Shura prowling the lands. How did you get here unscathed?”

“I cannot tell you,” Wolf replies truthfully. The Child looks into his eyes. There is a stretch of silence. 

“I have stayed here since we last met. Sometimes I take a few steps from the temple. Over these seven years, many things have happened,” she begins to say. “Some of the monks here have changed for the better. They see me and some try to speak with me. I tell them that their ways are wrong. That they shouldn’t have taken this path to search for immortality. It has been a struggle, but as long as some take my word, it is not in vain.” Wolf remembers that she bears the same animosity towards the curse of the Dragon’s heritage. Her maturity and strength reminds him of Lord Kuro. 

“And then there’s the demon of the land… The Shura took many lives, even the monks weren’t spared. Those who attempted to slay it always failed while the fortunate ones who managed to survive fled here for aid. I try to help, but there is little I can do.”

The Wolf remains quiet while he listens, lowering his gaze as he does so. He is after all, the Shura responsible. He hears the rustling of her fine white clothes and a pair of white palms holding a handful of rice enters his vision. 

“But you are here today, and I believe it is a positive sign. Bless us with bountiful harvest,” the Divine Child says in prayer. She smiles up at him. “Take this. I had wanted to give you another harvest for your next visit. Ah, not that I was waiting all these years,” the young woman quickly adds, embarrassed. The Divine Child still has her childish charm. 

“... You have my gratitude,” Wolf says as he accepts. He remembers the taste of the rice that she had given him before. It was sweet and comforting. The young woman fidgets; it is clear she wants to ask him something.

“Um… may I know of the Divine Heir’s fate?” she asks cautiously with a small voice. The Wolf doesn’t answer, but thins his lips. The girl appears to realize her mistake upon seeing his expression. She sputters frantically, “My apologies, I shouldn’t have -”

“...I don’t know where he is and what is his fate,” the Wolf replies solemnly. His voice is rough from unmasked emotion while he tries to disguise it by pocketing the rice she had given him. “You have my gratitude.” The Divine Child still looks depressed at her mistake. Somewhat feeling a little bad, Wolf reaches into his other pocket and gifts her with a persimmon fruit he’d picked up on the way. The young woman brightens upon receiving the gift.

“You remembered even after so long… Thank you,” she says, her cheeks rosy. She holds it in her hands and places it on her lap, not eating it immediately as she would have done so before. “What will you do now then, Shinobi?”

The Wolf stares at her in contemplation. He too doesn’t know what there is to do now that he is no longer Shura. He has control of his life again, but he no longer has a master or a family. Nowhere to belong. He shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

His answer earns a worried hum from the girl. “But… you are not alone, are you? You seem… well taken care of. There is someone, isn’t there?” The Wolf blinks at her, surprised. He doesn’t know how he appears for her to think such a way. He had thought he’d appeared rather miserable and shabby, no longer in his shinobi gear and just simple robes.

“Yes, they are more gracious than expected,” Wolf replies after a momentary pause. It is the truth that he didn’t expect the former Ashina lord to show him that much mercy. The man had technically killed him at least twice, after all, yet he’d let him off even after waiting for him to wake. This time, the Divine Child smiles wider.

The shinobi gestures his intention to leave. The girl is still smiling as she bids him goodbye. “Farewell, Shinobi of the Divine Heir. I appreciate your visit. May the harvest be plentiful wherever your path my lead.”

The Wolf acknowledges her blessings and leaves the Sanctum. Seeing her reminds him of his former master, and he’s unsure if it had been a good idea to visit her. 

The Wolf returns to the Outskirts and back to the temple. It had begun to rain on his way back, but he never minded getting wet. The flashes of lightning that occasionally lights up the sky reminds him of someone, and the Wolf finds himself wondering how long the man is planning to stay by the temple. It is likely that he is staying to watch him in the possibility that he returns to his Shura state.

Somehow, the Wolf feels a little assured. Having someone present who may be able to stop him feels more grounding than he first realized. 

He holds the bag of rice in his possession as he walks back. He remembers the Divine Child had wanted him to bring rice to Lord Kuro. He hadn't fulfilled that promise and wonders if his former master would have liked the Divine Child's harvest. He no longer has the chance to find out now.

Upon reaching the dilapidated temple gate, he sees the larger man's figure leaning against the doorway of the temple. He is seated with his legs folded under him, shoulder against the wall and his sword in his lap. Even from this distance, Wolf can see that Genichiro's eyes are closed but maintains the perpetual scowl on his face.

Only when he approaches closer does the former lord open his eyes. He looks irritated, but the Wolf doesn't know what might have happened for him to feel that way. Instead, the shinobi, dripping in his clothes drenched from the rain, holds out the bag of rice he'd managed to keep dry. 

“Where did you go?” Genichiro asks, his brows still furrowed and ignoring the offered bag. The Wolf suddenly feels he might be the reason for the man's bad mood but he wouldn't know how he might have done so when he hadn’t been around.

“....” The shinobi doesn’t answer. “Rice,” he says instead, placing the bag onto Genichiro’s lap.

Genichiro looks surprised at his response and opens the bag. Indeed, it is filled with rice. Glistening white and precious.

“The monks gave you this?” Genichiro asks, but the Wolf ignores him again. He walks past him to the main idol and starts on his sculpting once more despite his wet clothes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, the rice she gives are most likely centipede eggs. Yum.


	4. Chapter 4

Another few days pass, and Genichiro still remains at the dilapidated temple. The man doesn’t stray far, lingering mostly by the deserted Ashina castle grounds and ruins like a restless spectre. The Wolf continues to carve and sculpt, another pile of statues starting to build by his side. The former shinobi would sometimes hunt for the night’s dinner, or look for persimmons as a token for the Divine Child whenever he wishes to visit her. 

The two men sometimes converse but it’s of few words. The chasm between them remains stagnant. Genichiro would constantly keep tabs on the other if possible, but the Wolf stays put in his temple, only disappearing occasionally. But Genichiro notices that if the prosthetic is left at the temple, it means that the shinobi is within the vicinity. If it isn’t, he must have gone further than the temple grounds.

The irritation he feels whenever he finds the former shinobi missing is still there. He meditates when he can, or practice his swordplay as his mentor had taught him when he feels restless. Unfortunately, they do little to calm his nerves. He ends up collecting twigs or pieces of wood and attempts to carve too, just to see what it is about the activity that has the one-armed Wolf so enthralled.

As he sits at the steps of the temple, Genichiro cuts away strips of wood with a knife he’s bought from a passing merchant. He has learned wood carving before as a hobby taught by that strange doctor with a love for mechanical things, but it was brief, and as a youth, he was more interested in learning the way of the sword. It brings back memories of his time in the castle. But as he shaved away at the wood until he gets a vague, animal shape, Genichiro realizes nearly half a day had gone by. He puts his work in progress away and decides to get some water and food.

He thinks about the rice they had a few days before and realizes he misses the meals in Ashina castle. Meals prepared by servants and professional cooks that were hot, tasty and filling. It’s not like he hasn’t gone through adversity; he was a peasant before he was taken in by his grandfather. Genichiro knows he is homesick for a place that has been destroyed seven years prior. He hates that he is still burdened by guilt, but at the same time knows he can never let it go.

The former Ashina lord tears himself away from his thoughts and makes himself some food from leftovers.

The Wolf does not return even after he’s done with his meal and the sun has already set. Genichiro tries not to be bothered by it, but fails. He doesn’t know why, but he waits by the temple steps just like last time, clutching his sword. If the man does not return by the next morning, he will have to search for him and cut him down, Genichiro thinks. He is still suspicious of the former shinobi, even though so far the man had not done anything that would appear strange.

He distracts himself by staring at the night sky and counts the stars. There are too many of them to number. The moon is absent and the sky is clear of clouds. The vastness of it feels empty, reflecting the future Genichiro has. Where can he go after this? Rebuild a home amongst the ruin? Wait here until the Ministry comes to claim the land? He is only one powerless man. Nothing has changed even after seven years. Genichiro’s eyes become heavy as the darkness of the sky pulls him into slumber. He nods off with a tired sigh.

The vast blackness of the night behind his eyes transforms into red. 

An angry, blazing red of fire and blood. Buried under it all is Ashina.

His beloved country swallowed by blood, fire and corpses. The land is precious and sacred to him, but it’s all gone, razed, ruined and desecrated. He should have died with his nation,  should have died in battle protecting it, or committed ritual suicide since he didn’t even manage that. But he is a coward. He wanted a second chance. He will make it up to Ashina by slaying the demon that had gotten in his way. 

Red spurts from his body. Numerous stab wounds and so much pain. He sees the Shinobi up close. His eyes are red. His lips are curved into a cruel smile and Genichiro looks down to see his prosthetic hand holding the sword that is pierced through him. Defeated again and again. Even with the Rejuvenating Sediment, even with all the heretical arts he’d learned to protect Ashina, he failed…

He sees a vision of Isshin Ashina in his prime. The Sword Saint who took him in and taught him the way of the Sword. His mentor Lady Tomoe who gifted him the ability to call upon the gods to lend him the power of lightning. He sees their disappointed faces slowly melting away into ravaging fires.

He wants to scream.

Genichiro feels his body shaking. He feels something warm on his shoulder. The source of the pain and the rough movement of his body rouses his consciousness. His body moves out of reflex. He whips out the sword he’d been clutching and his eyes snap wide open. His mouth parts in a half-scream and a snarl when he realizes he’s nearly stabbed someone.

The Shinobi’s face is close to him, almost nose to nose. His prosthetic hand is grabbing at the blade of his sword, stopping it from cutting into the shinobi’s neck. The other man’s expression is of mild worry and confusion and Genichiro finds himself staring back at him in a similar state. Eventually, his senses sink in and he feels his cold sweat, his own heaving chest and the warm, rough hand on his shoulder belonging to Wolf.

“Let go,” Genichiro growls, shoving the other away. He is still sweaty and trembling, but he hides it by standing up. He didn’t know why, but he had felt so small then even though he is far larger and taller than the Wolf. The image of the man’s cruel expression in his dream is stuck to his mind and it reminded him of the Shura he’d faced. He wasn’t afraid of the man or the Shura before, but there something about the dream version that was far more frightening.

Genichiro staggers into the cave, leaving a bewildered Wolf behind.

He doesn’t sleep that entire night. 

The next morning he sees the Wolf by the remains of the fire. The man looks up and sees him. Their gazes meet but neither say a word, and it’s Genichiro who turns away first. He is reminded of last night, the phantom pain of the dream-Wolf’s blade piercing his chest leaves a heavy, aching feeling. Genichiro walks past the shinobi, who doesn’t have his prosthetic limb on.

“Wait,” the Wolf says. Genichiro stops, but does not face him. “...There is… something strange in the air. You should… watch out.”

“...I won’t be long,” Genichiro says and walks away.

Genichiro finds comfort in the outskirts among the familiar buildings, even if they are ruined. He sits in one of the buildings that is still standing, where it is big and empty and somewhat peaceful. He closes his eyes hoping to meditate, but his thoughts are still in disarray. Raging flames keep appearing in his visions and Genichiro sighs in defeat.

Restless, he continues to go through the grounds until he crosses paths with a pair of peddlers carrying heavy laden bags. It has been a while since he met another soul, much less two. Now that he thinks about it, with the Shura gone, word should have gone out and there should be more traffic or at least agents from the Ministry wanting to take the land, but there had been none.

“Hello good sir, you are travelling by these lands too? Ain’t it dangerous to be by yourself?” one of them calls out to him. “Don’t you know there’s a demon in these lands?”

Genichiro frowns a little but engages the two. “No, I heard that it’s gone, so it should be safe now.”

“Hah? Who told you that?” the other peddler exclaimed. “There’s still a demon around. We just found out about a passing entourage killed by the demon a couple days ago. We already had this trip planned so we can’t help it, but we’re going to get through as fast as we can. May Buddha protect us.”

“Are you sure that news is trustworthy?” Genichiro refutes. The Shinobi has mostly remained in the temple, but he has disappeared a number of times. During those moments, Genichiro had frustratingly no idea where the man could have went or what he may be doing. Is it possible that he’d gone to kill as Shura in those times? Genichiro quietly grits his teeth, feeling sick at the thought.

“Friend, you doing alright? You look quite pale,” the peddlers inquired, staring at his face with concern. Genichiro waves it off. “Well, the news did come from passing officials, so there’s little reason to doubt it. Whether it’s true or not, it’s best you get through here quickly anyway, especially if you’re alone and sick. We should be going too. Good luck!”

He watches them scurry off, taking quick steps with their loaded bags. Genichiro is fixed in his spot, thinking about their words. A demon, a Shura may possibly still be in the area. It is highly unlikely for there to be another one coming out of nowhere, so his first suspicions go to the Shinobi. Feeling a strange chill in the air, Genichiro walks away, further into the Ashina grounds. 

\---+---

The Wolf had been collecting some special herbs for the Divine Child in the Sunken Valley. The young woman had been teaching herself to make medicine with the help of some of the monks, and Wolf had decided for himself to aid her in return for more rice. It should have been an easy mission, but the one-armed Wolf did not expect the sight he comes across in the Bodhisattva Valley.

Traces of flames and burn marks on stone, collapsed stone Buddhas and charred trees. Fiery scratch marks clawing into the cliffs and stone floor as if a maddened beast had ravaged the area. The miasma of heavy darkness that lingers over the claw marks makes Wolf stop in his tracks. It is familiar, because he has felt it in him before. These are the traces of a demon, a rampaging Shura. This must be the reason for the strange air lately. But how can that be? He should have been the only demon.

The Wolf goes on to follow its tracks, grappling through the narrow valleys and crevices until he reaches the area that was once the Guardian Ape’s watering hole. The entire area is burned black, with all the water dried up. It has become a demon’s den instead.

From atop his perch on a low hanging tree, the Wolf discovers the creature he’d tracked; a large demon, its body a rusty brown colour and its hair made of red flames. He notices that its left arm is missing, only replaced by a swirling, misshapen arm made of more fire. The sight of it makes Wolf consciously hold his own prosthetic. The creature seems somewhat familiar.

But Wolf knows that without a weapon, he cannot hope to confront the demon. He can only do so much with his prosthetic so he decides it’s best to leave it alone. However, as luck has it, the demon spots him despite his distance and lets out a blood curdling roar. It’s a noise that shakes his bones and the heat of its flames flare bright like the sun.

The demon, as large as a building, gives chase after him. With each step, it leaves a burning footprint as its heavy weight shakes the earth. The Wolf can only run from it, trying his best to outrun the creature as it swings one of its arms, summoning a wall of fire in his direction. The range of its attack takes Wolf off guard, singing the ends of his robes and leaves him with some minor burns. The demon roars again, with hatred in its voice as it lunges onto Wolf who manages to dodge.

The creature is harder to shake off than Wolf expected. It is only due to his agility and small size that he manages to escape the demon’s wrathful grasp. Grappling away from the Valley, the shinobi returns to Mount Kongo as fast as he can.

“Welcome back, I thought something might have happened since you hadn’t returned in a while...” the Divine Child greets him. She sees his face and his burnt clothes before realizing something had gone wrong. “What happened?”

The Wolf places the herbs he’d collected by the girl’s side and nods. “There is… a Shura. I found traces of it by the Valley.”

“The Shura is near? Ah… the monks have spoken of it,” she says thoughtfully. “Did you confront it? Your burns…”

“I managed to get away,” Wolf dismisses her concern. “Did you know of this Shura?”

“Yes, but, I think the monks mentioned that it’s not the same Shura that has been lurking the lands. It is of another that appeared not long after the first one.”

“Another?” the Wolf asks, he didn’t expect that they would know of this one. With little memory of his time as Shura, he doesn’t remember crossing paths with the creature of flames.

“The monks told me of a hermit that locked himself away to prevent himself from becoming Shura. But after Ashina fell and the war came to a height, all that hatred and chaos of the battlefield must have brought the hermit out again,” the Divine Child tells him. “But since there are two Shura, only one dominates the land. The weaker one left to hide away, lurking in another area instead. I believe it may have come out thinking the other is gone.”

Wolf tightens his lips as he takes in the information. This has become his fault as well... He asks the girl, “Will they come here?”

“I do not believe so. Demons do not dare to tread the sacred grounds of Buddha,” the Divine Child assures him. “But they are attracted to lands that reek of death and violence, so it may head for where the war was… Ah - how about the person you are with? Are they far from that place?”

“They…” the Wolf doesn’t know how to answer her. Genichiro leaves the temple to walk the ruins of the castle grounds most of the time. He’s followed the man at times without him knowing and he’s seen the man in deep thought staring at the ruins of his country. A man stuck in the past, just like him. “I will get them away.”

The shinobi doesn’t even hear the young woman’s warnings. It is already past dusk when he gets back to the dilapidated temple. Usually the former lord would be here, and both of them would be eating during this time. But the larger man is nowhere to be seen, and it seems like he hasn’t been back either. Anxiety creeps in, an emotion that hasn’t filled him in a while. 

In the distance, he hears the roar of the Shura in the direction of Ashina Castle.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing is barely beta'd. Apologies if it's messy, and I welcome any mistakes I may have made to be pointed out so I can correct them. Thanks!

Genichiro pushes himself up. He’s bleeding from the deep claw mark in his stomach when the demon swiped at him. He coughs out some blood and blinks away the blurriness of his vision. Thankfully he hadn’t let go of his sword when he was knocked off his feet.

The flaming demon roars above him and raises its foot. Genichiro rolls out of the way and slashes at its other leg. His speed has slowed a little from the injury, but it’s not enough to stop him. He unleashes a flurry of slashing attacks, pushing the demon back but it does little to deter it from counterattacking. 

The Shura had come out of nowhere. It had dropped from the sky, crashing into the arena by the towers that were once of Ashina fortress. This creature is unlike the form of Wolf’s Shura. Where Wolf’s demon was condensed and powerful despite his small, human-like body, this one releases raw, uncontrollable power in the size of a building with a distorted, hunched over body. Its face is horrific, skeletal and horned, with what seems like a greying beard on its chin. But this creature is still not as intimidating as the Wolf’s Shura, whose demon oozes cruelty, bloodlust and intelligence. This one is berserked and mindless, only acting out to quell its rage. Its roars and cries give off waves of hatred and fury, its fiery attacks bringing up the flames of war that Genichiro had been hoping to forget. 

But this Shura is missing its left arm as well, albeit instead of a prosthetic, it is made of fire. It can’t be a coincidence, can it?

Genichiro knows he can’t escape and leave this creature to raze down what little of Ashina is left. The former lord inhales before he lets out a battle yell as he charges towards the demon, swinging his sword and attacking relentlessly. His slashes cut deep, but the creature is formidable, continuing to move as if he hadn’t damaged it. His sword isn’t as effective as he’d hoped. 

Each hit from the demon would surely send him closer to death, and Genichiro makes sure to evade each one, even though he’s already wounded. Thanks to the Rejuvenating Sediment, his bleeding has stopped and he won’t lose his stamina. He just has to keep on cutting away at it and avoid getting hit as much as he can.

He calls on the Lightning of Tomoe. The familiar roiling of lightning in the clouds and thunder bellowing above is a welcome sign. Genichiro kicks himself off the ground and raises his blade, summoning the lightning. But his timing is off. He didn’t expect the demon to throw out a sweep attack with its grotesque left arm, hitting him in the side midway in the air and sending him flying. The ground is set ablaze from the arm’s sweeping trail leaving a fearsome sight.

“Urgh-!” Genichiro groans. His skin and clothes are burned at the side, and he’s sure it would leave another burn mark to his already scar-ridden body. The demon does not wait, charging towards him while he’s still down and ready to smash him under its giant fists. Genichiro will roll out of the way.

But the demon stops before Genichiro can even move. It swings its head around and roars, heading towards the opposite direction, leaving Genichiro puzzled. The man sits up with a wince and sees another figure running around the Shura with fast, agile footwork. He knows it can only be the Wolf.

The former lord grits his teeth and forces himself up. He shakes off the pain and jumps back into the fray again. 

“Lord Genichiro-!” It’s the first time the shinobi said his name. He sees the man throw something towards him, its shape slim, long and black. Genichiro catches it deftly and draws the blade from its scabbard, immediately shuddering at the cold sensation the Black Mortal Blade radiates. His eyes catch sight of the Blade’s twin in the Wolf’s hand.

With these two Blades wielded by skilled swordsmen, even a mighty Shura would stand no chance. 

Somehow the two of them work together with ease. As they’ve experienced each other’s swordplay numerous times before, they are able to read and react to each other’s moves, coordinating their attacks against the giant demon. Where Wolf takes the high ground and focuses his attacks on the demon’s upper body, Genichiro continues to cut away at its legs and feet, slowing and hindering its movements. He acts as bait while the Wolf attacks the distracted Shura, with Genichiro running from the demon’s fireballs and slam attacks. 

Both of them take turns to be bait, wearing the Shura down with their collective firepower until the demon collapses to its knees in defeat.

Genichiro does not wait. He steps forward, ready to give the finishing blow. 

However, the Shura lets out another piercing cry. But this time, the sound reverberates with pain and sorrow instead of wrath. It lashes out with its limbs in what seems like a final attempt to fight back, taking both Genichiro and Wolf by surprise. The men are blinded and temporarily set aflame from the attack and knocks both of them off their feet. They scramble to recover as the Shura targets the Wolf, charging towards the stunned shinobi.

“Finish me… please!”

Genichiro almost stops in his tracks when he hears the distorted voice. The voice is frightening, but it was a clear plea for help. Genichiro immediately glances to the Wolf, who looks just as shocked, his eyes wide with recognition. Genichiro doesn’t care for that, there is no time!

He chases after the creature, but he knows he won’t make it before the demon reaches the Wolf. Mustering all of his power, Genichiro throws out a lightning attack at the Shura before it can reach its target.  _ Gods, heed my call! _

The Shura shrieks as electricity shocks its body into paralysis and falls to its knees once more. The flash of lightning jerks the shinobi out of his stupor and the man takes the opportunity without prompting. He delivers the final blow, thrusting his blade into the Shura’s eye and delivering another blow by jumping up and jabbing the blade into its skull.

“Thank…. You…. Wolf….” the same distorted voice says as the demon throws its body back in its death throes, its body consumed by flames and disappearing into dust.

After all the chaos of the intense battle against the Shura, the sudden silence that follows is almost eerie. 

Genichiro can only see the shinobi’s back. The man remains standing where he’d landed, staring at the spot where the demon perished. If Genichiro didn’t know better, he would think the man looked sad. “You knew him?” Genichiro asks, unable to help himself.

“Yes,” the shinobi replies, his voice soft as he’s still facing away. He doesn’t say anymore and slides the Mortal Blade back to its scabbard. He then turns to Genichiro and walks towards him. “Here. You should… keep this away from me.”

Wolf holds out the Red Mortal Blade to him, his dark eyes fixed on Genichiro. The eye contact is steady and firm, showing his sincerity and also a silent plea for the man to accept it. Genichiro nods and takes the blade from the other’s hands. The slight brush of skin is a sign of trust and familiarity. They both say nothing of it.

“...Thank you,” Genichiro says after a moment, acknowledging the Wolf’s aid in the battle. The Wolf stares at him and nods. His eyes lower to Genichiro’s torso, where the claw mark is.

“I can help you with that,” the Wolf says. “We should get back.”

\----+----

Genichiro remains still as Wolf wipes the wound clean. His top is bared, revealing his black burned skin with an array of both faded and newer scars. Wolf has seen them before, but he can’t help but study every shape and follow every trace of the scars littered on the man’s body. He’s meticulous as he proceeds to stitch the wound close, tugging at the thread and needle as he pierces it through the skin. The larger man doesn’t even flinch or make a sound. With all he’s been through, a needle prick shouldn’t even faze him. Genichiro is not a pampered lord after all.

“How did you know where to find the Mortal Blades?” Genichiro suddenly asks while Wolf is applying the herbal salve on the stitched wound.

“I saw you hiding them. You’re not as discreet as you think,” Wolf replies, not even looking away from the task at hand. He hears the man scoff with little humour.

“Can’t hide anything from you shinobi, huh,” Genichiro mutters. He sounds almost like he’s grumbling. “Why didn’t you retrieve your sword then?” 

This time Wolf stops. He’s done with wound. He puts away the medicine and wipes his hands. He finally looks to Genichiro. “I don’t trust myself with a sword. I might hurt you.”

Genichiro shoots him with a dirty look. He turns away with what seems like an annoyed scowl as he pulls up his robes and slips his arms back through his sleeves. “As if I’d let you.”

The shinobi says nothing, as he turns around and detaches the prosthetic from his left arm. Once it’s off he places it aside and seats himself in his usual spot before the main Buddha idol and reaches for his wooden block automatically. He hasn’t sculpted for a while. Not doing so would usually make him nervous when his thoughts stray, but recently, he’s been alright without it. Still, it’s best not to put it off for too long.

“Who was that Shura?” the Ashina asks. Wolf digs the chisel into the wood block.

“He was… a friend,” the shinobi answers. He chips off a piece from the wood and repeats. “A mentor.”

“Mentor? Because he was missing his left arm?”

“Mm. He was the one who gave me that,” Wolf nods his head to the shinobi prosthetic. 

“Why did he become Shura?”

“I… don’t know. He only mentioned about seeing flames.”

“Flames?” There’s a minute hitch in the other’s voice, just barely there for Wolf to almost miss it. He doesn’t point it out.

“These statues were his, to ‘keep the flames away’.”

“Did it help?”

“He still became Shura,” Wolf says in a matter of fact tone. 

Contemplative silence follows after their short conversation, and once Wolf has completed his carving, he turns around to see the man asleep, resting against the wall with his head nodding off. Wolf finds himself staring at the man; it’s not the first time he’s seen the former Ashina asleep, and every time, the man appears restless even in slumber, as if he sees something behind his closed lids. The last he’d seen him in the same state,  Genichiro had looked so vulnerable and shaky that when Wolf tried to wake him, there was fear and desperation once he opened his eyes. There was a tinge of red too, a sight Wolf has seen before many years ago.

The Wolf resumes his sculpting, taking another wooden block and focuses his thoughts on it. He tries not to think of the Sculptor, his distorted, sorrowful voice, or of Genichiro’s invasive questions.

The injured man recovers fully within a couple of days. His vigour has always been strong and stable, and with the power of the Rejuvenating Sediment, the wound heals quick and barely leaves a mark. The two men return to their previous routine as if nothing happened.

Something different, however, is that Genichiro does not visit the Ashina ruins as often as before. He seems like he’s avoiding the pull of it, and the Wolf can see he is forcing himself to put his mind more on his swordplay practice in the clearing by the offering shrine than wandering in the grounds of his former homeland. 

When the man is around, Wolf finds it difficult to leave him alone in the temple. Perhaps it’s the guilt for not looking out for him previously, though he knows full well that Genichiro is capable of protecting himself. He doesn’t think of the man as his lord, or even a friend, but he does feel rather indebted to him, and the only way Wolf knows how to repay that is by being loyal and protective. That is all he’s been brought up with after all.

But in staying within the temple, the man becomes restless. He paces about and does his training from dawn to dusk, only stopping for food or water. Wolf doesn’t intend to intervene, but he watches, because he’s been sensing something different about the man, ever since they defeated the Shura.

A couple of times, Genichiro would hover over the Wolf while he carves away. Once, he even joins Wolf, taking out a half-finished carving and goes on to sculpt a wooden horse. His skill is impressive compared to Wolf’s subpar statues. It leads to Genichiro reminiscing about a certain demon General who favours his horse and his spear, but they don’t talk after that, knowing the fate and cause of said man.

While times between them are often quiet, it’s a familiar and comfortable feeling. Though Genichiro gets visibly restless at times, he mellows down slightly when he watches Wolf wood sculpting. Similarly, Wolf finds the company calming. Neither of them catches the other smiling.

But such instances are few and does not ease the tension that builds within Genichiro, who only grows even more restless each day he avoids treading through Ashina. The Wolf, has no choice but to confront it, knowing that it may lead to something worse.

“Genichiro,” the Wolf says his name over dinner. It almost startles the man; they still do not talk much, and they especially don’t call out to each other. At most, it still feels like they are still tiptoeing around each other despite the experiences they’ve shared the past days. Genichiro looks to him, waiting for him to continue. “You are still thinking of rebuilding Ashina, aren’t you?”

Wolf doesn’t miss the clenching of the man’s fists.

“What does it matter to you?”

“... You do know what happens to those who have their desires unfulfilled.”

“I am not that weak, Shinobi,” Genichiro snaps at him, his teeth bared in a near snarl. Wolf sees the slight gleam of red in the other’s gaze. “If I were, I would have become one of them years ago.”

The Wolf lowers his eyes in apology. What the man says is true, but he knows that the other man is still affected, slowly sinking into madness. The former lord has already lost his way from the right path before, and it won’t be surprising if he were to be led astray once again. They might end up having to fight each other once more, and Wolf realizes he doesn’t wish to harm Genichiro needlessly. If such a fate can be avoided, he would rather take that chance.

“When I became Shura, I was both helpless and in control,” Wolf continues. “I killed Lord Isshin. I almost killed Lady Emma. If she hadn’t escaped, I might have killed Lord Kuro too. I would have relished it. As Shura, my nightmares become reality and my body was uncontrollable. All I sought was blood and death, and I willingly gave in to the thirst. Becoming a monster is easy, but tearing oneself away from that might take a miracle.”

Genichiro swallows as Wolf’s intense eyes meets his, “I thank you for returning to Ashina and killing me that day. You gave me that miracle.”

“If ever the same situation were to happen, but our roles reversed,” the Wolf continues to speak, his gaze still on Genichiro’s. “I… will find it hard to harm you.”


	6. Chapter 6

He still dreams of fire. Red flames that would fill his vision and burn his eyes. Lightning would follow, a grim reminder of both his power and incompetence. Genichiro has had mixed feelings about these forces of nature. They remind him of war, pain and destruction. The disappointment in himself for his inability to protect the sacred land he loves.

For years he’d been grasping on that guilt and desire to return to Ashina and rebuild it, in order to make up for his mistakes. He was supposed to kill the demon of the land, but the demon became a man, and the man became a familiar figure in his recent days. Would this be an act of betrayal to his own plans?

Genichiro is lost. He doesn’t know what is his purpose anymore. When they killed the second Shura, Genichiro had that momentary feeling of euphoria, that he’d fulfilled his mission. But then it was gone. Ashina is still barren and ruined.

Now that it is truly clear, the Ministry will return to claim it, and he as a lone man won’t be able to stop it. But would he still have a chance with the Black Mortal Blade? If he were to sacrifice himself...

Upon thinking that, Genichiro feels a heavy ache in his chest. He hears the shinobi’s words in his ear and feels conflicted. Flames surround him and threatens to melt his skin. He yells as his eyes burn hot, boiling tears dripping down and searing his cheeks.

Genichiro wakes up with a start. The Wolf is there again, staring at him from beside the candle light. His face holds an expression of mild concern, and that is enough to express that the man is actually  _ worried _ about him, his former enemy. “I need… water,” Genichiro eventually says, licking his dry lips and sitting up. Wolf hands him a gourd of spring water. The liquid soothes his parched throat.

“Do you dream of fire?” Wolf suddenly asks. Genichiro blinks at him, finding himself very reluctant to answer.

“...Yes,” he replies eventually.

“I dreamt of them as well.” Genichiro is genuinely surprised by that admission but notices the past tense.

“And now?” he asks, watching the other’s reaction. The Wolf’s eyes appear distant but he blinks and focuses them on Genichiro again.

“I dream of the field behind the castle. It’s calming.”

The field behind the castle. That was where they first crossed blades when Genichiro caught the shinobi attempting to bring the Divine Heir away. He remembers staring up at the moon as he waited for their arrival. The look of anxiety on both the young Lord and his shinobi upon being caught was memorable, almost amusing. But indeed, the field does give a sense of peace.

“It is,” Genichiro sighs. He takes another drink from the gourd again and peers through the hole in the temple ceiling. It is still the middle of the night. He must have not slept long. “Why are you not asleep?”

“Someone has to watch the night.” Genichiro has been sleeping within the temple more often than in the cave. Mostly he just dozes off rather than willingly sleep in the temple, but it still shows the growing level of comfort and trust he has in the presence of the other man.

“You’re no longer a shinobi. Do you still have enemies after your life?”

“Perhaps,” the other replies vaguely. “It’s just a habit.”

“You have strange habits,” Genichiro tells him. He is reminded of the first time the Wolf brought back the bag of rice. The smaller man had eaten it as it is. “Like eating uncooked rice.” 

Unexpectedly he hears the other make a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. It brings his eyes back on the man, barely catching a glimpse of a smile from the usually stoic shinobi.

Genichiro takes another gulp of water. He wishes they had sake instead. 

“I can’t go back to sleep,” Genichiro admits, putting the gourd down. “Are you still carving those Buddha statues?”

Wolf gives a troubled look, but holds out the carving he is working on. It is a carved block of a four legged creature, but Genichiro can’t recognize what animal it could be. “A... horse?”

The shinobi’s lips twitch in a slight frown, withdrawing the carving. “A wolf.”

Genichiro coughs to hide both his surprise and amusement he did not expect. “You have time to practice.”

Wolf continues his wood sculpting and Genichiro watches. Eventually the larger man moves closer and joins the shinobi, picking up another wooden block and starts to carve. The night passes by in comfortable silence. By the time dawn breaks, Genichiro is done with his piece and places it by the Wolf’s side. It’s a realistic wooden sculpture of a wolf laying on its side. While the features aren’t very refined, it still holds a regal, majestic look. If it were painted, it would be comparable to pieces of famed artisans.

“You’d need an example to follow,” Genichiro says and gets to his feet. Wolf takes the figure in his hand and brushes off the wood shavings, thumb caressing along the wooden canine’s body. 

“Thank you.”

“I should get something for us to eat.”

“I shall go with you.”

“I can hunt by myself,” Genichiro huffs.

“We can get rice. If you’d like,” Wolf offers, and leads the man to Mount Kongo. Genichiro had been curious about it the first time.

The Divine Child is there by the time they arrive at the temple. The monks have seen Wolf a number of times and are at most tolerant of his presence. They leave him be, though they do glance suspiciously at Genichiro who follows behind him.

They find the girl in the main hall of the temple, seated in the front altar doing prayers. She turns to greet them when she hears their footsteps.

“Ah, Shinobi of the Divine Heir, welcome,” the young woman greets with a bright smile. Her eyes fall to Genichiro and her expression dims slightly. “And this is…?”

Wolf looks to Genichiro for a moment and answers for him. “Genichiro Ashina.”

The Divine Child’s eyes widens in surprise. “The lord of the Ashina clan? … Welcome to Senpou Temple. I am what the monks call the Divine Child of Rejuvenating Waters.” Her expression is a little mixed, but she gives the man a smile nonetheless. Genichiro has heard of her and the experiments the monks of the temple had done, but he had not met her himself. He didn’t expect the shinobi to be acquainted with the Divine Child. She turns back to Wolf, “What brings you here, Shinobi of the Divine Heir? ”

“May we have rice?” Wolf asks.

“Of course, you came just in time for the next harvest,” the Divine Child replies. Genichiro watches as the Wolf kneels down to the young woman and holds out his palms. The Divine Child brings her hands together and starts to pour a handful of white rice grains into Wolf’s waiting hands.

“I didn’t expect the rice to come from the Divine Child of Rejuvenating Waters,” Genichiro comments as Wolf bags and pockets the rice. “It’s no wonder the rice is of exquisite quality.” He hadn’t think the monks of Senpout Temple would be that charitable to give away such precious resource to anyone, so this explains it.

“Thank you,” the girl replies to him, but she avoids his gaze, looking mildly uncomfortable in his presence. Genichiro keeps his distance, knowing that her looks were not a coincidence. He recognizes it in those who deemed his actions during the war as heretical. He’s used to it. It’s likely that the Divine Child of the Rejuvenating Waters recognizes the power of the Rejuvenating Sediment flowing through him.

“I picked these for you,” Wolf says, presenting the young woman with a cloth bag filled with small persimmons. The young woman smiles brightly as she accepts them. “Don’t forget to eat them when you’re unwell.”

“Of course, and thank you again, Shinobi of the Divine Heir,” the Divine Child says happily, already taking one fruit to her mouth. She bites into it with a happy hum and finishes it within moments. “It is delicious as always. I never get such treats except for when you bring them. The least I can do is to share bountiful harvests with you.”

“I appreciate your generosity, Divine Child,” Genichiro adds on the Wolf’s behalf, giving a slight bow to her. The young woman smiles stiffly and nods at him. She offers them a prayer as they take their leave. 

When they walk down the mountain, both men are in step with each other, shoulders almost brushing. The Wolf is shorter than him by more than a head, only reaching up to his chest. Genichiro never really had a proper look at the difference in their statures. They walk in silence until the Wolf asks, “Have you met the Divine Child before?” 

“No, but I have heard of her. She is… closely related to my power,” Genichiro replies. “The monks keep their secrets, even though I did learn some things from them. But her existence is not known to many.” They reach the base of the temple, walking past the stone lanterns. “You’ve been visiting her and giving her persimmons.”

“She was the one who gave me the Mortal Blade. And rice.”

“It’s no wonder I couldn’t find the Red Blade…” Genichiro murmurs to himself.  After a pause, he adds, “The Divine Child is very fond of you.”

“Is that so,” Wolf muses passingly. “She reminds me of Lord Kuro.” His expression softens almost unnoticeably. Genichiro notices; he has begun to notice a lot about the other man. “Both of them wanted to stop the curse of the Dragon Blood, and she provided me aid in order to carry out Lord Kuro’s desire.”

Genichiro has read of such a method to sever the curse of the Dragon Blood, but he had no need for it. He had needed its power, not destroy it. “If the Divine Heir desires it now, would you resume your mission?” 

It takes the Wolf a moment to consider his answer, “Perhaps, if he allows me to.”

“Even after all these years, you are still loyal to the boy?” Genichiro asks, gaze fixed on Wolf.

“No,” the shinobi admits. “I have already betrayed the Divine Heir, I don’t deserve to swear fealty to him again. But he was a good lord, even if he was young.”

They walk in silence as they tread through the misty forests of the mountain. Due to the thickening fog, Genichiro unconsciously keeps close to the other man as a precaution.

“I am sure your men would say the same of you too,” the Wolf says after a few minutes of walking. The former lord doesn’t reply to his words, but he appreciates them, though he thinks they are undeserved.

“They fought for Ashina, not for me. Our land is sacred,” Genichiro tells him dismissively. “Was.”

The Wolf lets out a sigh and doesn’t say anymore. 

\----+----

They bought some supplies from a peddler and set up a fire by a river. Wolf catches some fish for them, making use of his prosthetic arm’s spear tool while Genichiro prepares and cooks the rice. The shinobi returns with four fish skewered on his spear, his clothes damp from the river. The image has Genichiro likening the man to a careless hound, jumping into puddles or rivers to play. Only that this ‘hound’ is far too stoic and loyal to his work to be anything playful.

Wolf sits close to the fire, his heavy wet clothes sticking to his body. Droplets of water fall from his hair and trickle down his skin. Genichiro focuses on the task at hand. The Wolf lays the fish over leaves and starts to descale them. The domesticity of the scene is not lost on either of them. It has become an increasingly common situation, both of them preparing food and eating in each other’s presence. Neither are lord or servant, both equals and working together.

It is telling of how far they’ve come. With the fall of Ashina, Genichiro had always thought that he’d die with her. He did not think he would still be alive, and sitting with the shinobi whom he’d fought against to protect the very land he devoted himself to. He wonders if his devotion to his land is shallow, to have his feelings of intense loyalty fade away within a short period of time.

He wonders if he did the right thing by sparing the shinobi in front of him.

Genichiro’s thoughts wander back to the words the Wolf had said to him. To become obsessed with something, lost in one’s desire to the point of madness would risk one to become Shura or be cursed with Red Eyes. He remembers his grandfather warning him of it and mentioning the same words as the Wolf. His grandfather would have warned him with the promise of death by his sword, but the Wolf instead admitted that he may not be able to stop him.

He looks over to said Wolf, whose hair is now untied while he eats the fish and rice they’ve cooked. The Wolf looks more relaxed with his hair down, the damp clothes showing the shape of his body, and his posture is less tense and unguarded. He wonders if the man’s skin is cool to the touch. The former shinobi’s words linger in his mind,  _ I may find it hard to harm you. _

Genichiro thinks he would prefer that they don’t cross swords again either.

They return to the temple following their usual path.

But Wolf suddenly holds his arm out, stopping Genichiro in his tracks. He puts a finger over his lip as a sign to remain quiet. Genichiro immediately knows there is a hostile in the area. They both attempt to hide their presence within the tall grass and foliage, and Wolf signals to Genichiro the direction of a stranger in the distance.

A figure dressed in familiar black and purple catches Genichiro’s eye. They are perched atop an edge, looking over the ground. It’s a scout, but one of the most skillful ones from the Ministry. If Wolf hadn’t pointed them out to him, Genichiro wouldn’t have even noticed. Seeing the agent, something thick and cloying rises in his stomach. Heat and sick bubbles up in him and he is filled with hatred. Genichiro hears himself gnashing his teeth, feels his hand curl around his sword so tight that the squeeze of his muscle is nearly audible. 

He almost startles when a cool, bony hand slips over his. Genichiro’s eyes snap to the Wolf who is staring back at him. “Let me,” he whispers, his voice low and dangerous. Genichiro can’t manage to utter a word from repressing his rage, so he nods. The Wolf’s prosthetic hand drags from his to the handle of his sword. He pulls it out of Genichiro’s scabbard and disappears towards the scout.

The Wolf disposes of the agent silently and gracefully. He can see the spurt of blood from the agent’s slashed throat. It is a sight to behold.

The Wolf scans the area from his position and spots no other enemy. He returns to Genichiro with a clean blade, passing the sword back to its owner.

“I didn't see any more of them, but they will know when they don't get a report back,” Wolf tells him. Genichiro refrains from leaning in to get a better whiff of iron that lingers on Wolf. It is unnaturally sweet on him. He brings his thoughts back to order and acknowledges what the Wolf has reported to him. 

Genichiro knows. If there is no word from an agent they sent out it only means that they have been compromised. It would mean that the Interior Ministry will return for another fight to claim the land while knowing there may be hostiles against them still. But this time, instead of an entire nation, there will only be the two of them. 


	7. Chapter 7

Obviously, one cannot fight against an army by themselves. 

The Wolf is conscious about the man sitting quietly behind him while the Wolf sculpts his statues. He knows Genichiro is affected by the presence of a Ministry agent, bringing back past wounds and ripping them open. For Wolf, he is only loyal to his lord - but he is masterless now, and hence he no longer has an allegiance to anyone, not even himself. Even so, he has grown some sort of connection with the former Ashina lord, even if he was once a former enemy. Whether this attachment is one-sided or not, he admits to himself that he won’t mind extending help to the man if he asked for it. He just does not want to enable the man's obsession. 

Personally, the Wolf would prefer to stay away from the cursed Ashina land. There has been enough death and misfortune, and he doesn’t wish to involve himself with the politics of the country. But Genichiro is a former lord who has had his nation stripped away from him. In a way he understands Genichiro and his seven years of grudge and hate that kept him going until he returned to Ashina to slay the demon occupying it.

But it hadn’t been enough to sate his thirst for vengeance, and the Wolf almost wishes his death would have helped dissipate the man’s desire. It is a thought that bothers him a little, to have a personal wish to aid someone other than his lord to this extent. Wolf keeps his head down and continues to chisel at the wooden block; he can only wait for Genichiro to make his choice.

They had barely spoken since they came across that agent. Genichiro has been returning to Ashina again, meandering through the ruins once again like a restless spectre. Wolf has been following him silently, unable to quell the worry in his gut as he watches the man descend back to the madness of his initial desire. As days go by, both of them come across more Ministry shinobi. With each encounter, the bright red gleam he sees in Genichiro’s eyes grows stronger.

That night, Genichiro remains in the temple with him. The man has been keeping his sword close to him, a sign of his paranoia and growing anxiety towards the Ministry’s presence. Genichiro is carving at a piece of wood as well, but he isn’t carving for leisure, and instead it is clear he is crafting his own bow and arrows. 

Wolf had not said a word about it even when he sees the bow and the materials for it. The Wolf is not confrontational when it comes to such personal matters, especially verbally. He wouldn’t even know how to begin to talk to the man about it. Besides, the Wolf doesn’t believe he has a say, especially as the former shinobi who had went against Genichiro himself. He doesn’t think Genichiro would appreciate his opinions lately.

Wolf keeps himself distant. He remains at his usual spot in front of the main altar, carving his third statue of the day. While he’s mostly focused on his own work, he keeps an ear out to the surroundings; they’ve had had a couple of unwanted guests before, and Genichiro’s noises as he uses his knife to carve into wood is rather soothing. The Wolf stops only when he hears the other man stop as well. When he turns, he sees Genichiro staring at him with an expressionless gaze.

“What will you do if the Ministry comes?” the man asks. The question is sudden, but the Wolf has been anticipating it. The tension has reached its peak.

“I will be in this temple,” Wolf replies him simply.

“Then, would you aid me to fight against them?”

“...” Wolf had been expecting this. He places the chisel down. “I think that would be the most unwise choice.”

“You would not?” Genichiro presses, his brows furrowing deeper.

The Wolf presses his lips together and turns away. “It is better to run away from a fight you cannot win.”

“You will not even try.”

“... I have no grudge against them. Even if I try, I am only one against an army.”

Genichiro ignores his logical response. His lips are turned down in a scowl as he persists, “What if they raze down this temple? Where will you go?”

“Then I shall take my leave. Anywhere is fine.”

Wolf expects the disgust in Genichiro's face as the man makes a frustrated noise. The man is prideful as always. “Coward,” he hears the man hiss, but Wolf neither accepts nor refutes it. Genichiro resumes crafting his arrows and ignores the Wolf for the rest of the night. The Wolf takes it in stride even when the man leaves to retreat to the tunnel. He hasn’t returned there in a while, thus his separation means much more than just an absence of his presence in the temple.

The next day he finds Genichiro gone. Usually, the Wolf rises earlier than the other man, but somehow, he’d gotten ahead of him. The Wolf waits nervously at the temple, until Genichiro returns midday. He comes back dragging a young deer with an arrow pierced through its heart. His completed bow and a quiver of crafted arrows is strapped to his back. Wolf is reminded of the first time he crossed swords with Genichiro, when he was still a mighty lord.

“Hunting?” Wolf asks as Genichiro brings the carcass near their fire pit. The former shinobi does not miss the specks of blood on the front of his robes. He knows it is from hunting, but of a different sort of prey. Genichiro’s face is impassive, already preparing the meat. Wolf does not say anymore, but joins him in skinning the deer. The quiet between them is cold, and it gives the Wolf an emotion he is unfamiliar with, something akin to losing his original Lord’s trust.

They no longer spend much time in each others’ presences. Genichiro is always away from the dilapidated temple, familiarizing his skills with the bow and arrow once again. His sword is polished and sharpened with the blood of more Ministry agents, and the Wolf can only watch as the skies above Ashina darken with each passing day.

He can only confide in the Divine Child, who offers him space and shelter should he need it. She openly asks about the Mortal Blades.

“They are hidden,” the Wolf tells her. But he knows what she is really asking. She knew both of them had used it for the second Shura previously. It is highly likely that the swords will be used again, but not for their intended purpose. “I… will take care of that.”

The Divine Child gives Wolf an empathetic look. “I hope that the both of you do not have to fight,” she says, clasping her hands together. “I am… apprehensive of the former Ashina lord, but both of you have survived together. It would be a shame for something that could have been good be destroyed by the Ministry again.”

The Wolf acknowledges her words quietly. She prays for them while the Wolf sits by and watches her do her prayers in silence.

But Wolf does not stay idle. Even if he had been quiet about the situation with Genichiro and the Ministry, he had been thinking and has plans of his own. When he returns to the dilapidated temple, he finds himself relieved to see Genichiro by the stone steps. He is making more arrows, but at least the Wolf knows that he is safe.

“Where have you been?” Genichiro asks him. The Wolf hadn’t heard the man speak in a while. He decides to sit beside the larger man and brings out the bag of rice balls.

“We hadn’t had rice for some time,” Wolf says, offering the man one rice ball. They are plain rice balls, but with a single plum stuck to their backs. Genichiro takes a look at it and scoffs for some reason.

“Did the Divine Child make that for you?” the man asks sourly, ignoring the offer.

“No,” Wolf replies quietly, not withdrawing his offer so his hand remains in the air. “I wanted to try make something, so she taught me.” That makes Genichiro stop and glances to the Wolf. A momentary beat of silence hangs over them as their gazes meet before Genichiro relents with a sigh. He puts his tools down and takes the rice ball from the Wolf’s hand. He makes an appreciative sound when he bites into the treat.

It is the warmest moment they share in a long time.

But the threat of the Ministry remains and lingers over them. Genichiro recluses himself in the cave and the Wolf keeps his distance.

One night, the Wolf waits for Genichiro to be asleep before he reattaches his prosthetic limb and makes his move. 

Genichiro had stashed away the Mortal Blades in a new place. Of course, the former shinobi knows where it is. Taking silent steps, he makes his way to the brush behind the temple and digs them out from the mix of soil, brush and snow. They are concealed pretty well, and Wolf laments having to disturb the spot. The swords could have been lost to time in that spot if left alone, but it has to be done. He has an inkling what the man might do with the power of these cursed blades. He decides to pick up Kusabimaru as well, just in case.

“What do you think you’re doing.”

Wolf immediately grabs the swords and whirls around, tucking the blades behind him while his prosthetic clutches Kusabimaru. Genichiro stands in his way, his large frame obstructing his path. His expression is serene, but his eyes are cold. Wolf notices Genichiro has his hand on his sword. “Answer me.”

But the Wolf doesn’t, keeping his lips shut. If he were to answer truthfully, the man would not let him go.

“Answer me!” Genichiro barks. It’s the first time he’s raised his voice at him, his prideful eyes glaring at the Wolf with such intensity that it brings the former shinobi back to the siege of Ashina.

“I've read the Black Scroll. I know what might do with the Black Mortal Blade.”

“Then you should know there is a chance.”

“Not at the cost of your blood or your life.”

“It is for her sake, for Ashina!” Genichiro insists. The Wolf shakes his head. 

“...I cannot let you do this. You can’t win alone.”

“Then fight with me, Wolf. You are a formidable warrior. I know you are,” Genichiro tries. His expression softens just a little.

“No,” Wolf argues stubbornly. “I will not let you die in vain.” The change in Genichiro’s expression is immediate, his face twisted in a grimace of anger.

“Who are you to tell me that? Who was the one who stopped me from obtaining the power of the Dragon’s blood? Who was the one who aided in the decimation of Ashina?!” the former lord roars, drawing his sword and pointing it at the smaller man. 

The air around them freezes almost palpably. Their eyes are locked to one another, daring either of them to break the contact. Wolf lets out an exhale, but keeps himself from showing any signs of weakness. But he relents, knowing he has to say something, or risk it escalating to something worse. 

“...Please, Genichiro,” the Wolf implores, lowering his head. He is not beyond pleading even though he has his own pride and dignity. But this is beyond him, and he does not wish to lose another person in his life. He has already killed or chased away the ones closest to him. He can do it differently this time and change their fates. “I do not want to hurt you.”

The words break the ice in Genichiro's eyes. His sword wavers in the air before he lowers it. The man looks defeated and exhausted; hurt, even. After what seems like an eternity of silence, Genichiro sheathes his blade and walks away.

Wolf is torn between going after the man or deal with the swords. He watches as Genichiro retreats into the temple and sits before the main Buddha idol. His sword is put aside and his position meditative. Wolf takes it as a show of his allowance for the former shinobi to carry on his task. 

The Wolf does so. He flees to the Inner Sanctum as fast as he can with the Mortal Blades in his possession. Thankfully, there are no enemies on his way, but he regrets disturbing the young woman from her slumber. 

The Divine Child looks up at him in surprise, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “Shinobi of… - What is it?”

Due to his sudden visit at such an untimely manner, it is no wonder the girl is concerned. The Wolf apologizes and presents both Mortal Blades to her. 

“This is - you have both of them?... Why are you returning them to me? One of them is already yours,”the Divine Child asks. She hesitates in accepting them, looking more concerned for the former shinobi.

“I have no use for them, not anymore,” the Wolf tells her. “And I do not want their power to tempt any more from doing something irreversible.”

The girl appears to understand and nods sagely. She finally takes the swords gently from his hands. “How is… the Ashina Lord?”

The Wolf meets her gaze with a somewhat melancholic look. “I will try to save him.”

“I see…”the Divine Child nods again and puts the swords away. “Even I can see that he is still haunted by the fall of his clan. For him to even drink the Rejuvenating Sediment and withstand its power… it is clear that his devotion to his land is powerful. I am amazed he has not been driven mad by it.”

“...He is indeed a man with a strong will,” Wolf acknowledges. The young woman turns to him with a smile, not missing the wistful expression on the usually stoic man's face. 

“Yes indeed. He reminds me of someone,” the Divine Child tells him. She presses her palms together and prays, giving Wolf her blessings. “May whatever path you choose bring you bountiful harvests, O Shinobi.”

The Wolf leaves the Inner Sanctum. He hopes that Genichiro is still at the temple when he returns. 

\---+---

Genichiro cannot remain in the dilapidated temple. His body burns in regret and fury. He staggers out of the outskirts toward the fallen castle ruins. He aims to just wait in the wreckage until the Ministry comes, where they can take the land and take his life too. He won’t go without a fight, just as he‘d originally planned. Even if the shinobi takes the Mortal Blades away, leaving him no proper chance to fight back, Genichiro will see his plans through. He has to.

Genichiro hears the shinobi’s voice and sees the man's face behind his closed eyes. He knows what the Wolf has told him is true. He is but one man. He cannot protect a barren land from an army by himself. He just can’t bear to tear himself away from his original need to protect Ashina, who had given everything to him. If he doesn’t fulfill this wish, there is no purpose for him anymore.

_ I will not let you die in vain. _

Genichiro sighs. He does not know what the Wolf wishes of him. There is no future for a fallen lord. He has no standing, no land or wealth to his name, not even friends or allies, and his pride will not allow him to bow to any other allegiance. He is fated to be like this. There isn’t anything for him anymore.

He thinks of the Wolf and his dark eyes. His strange quirks and his quiet stubbornness. His regrets and his decision to repent, even if it is in a strange way that Genichiro does not follow. How he came out of being a Shura and yet decides to continue living even when he is without a lord or purpose.

Genichiro respects the Wolf. Admires him. Perhaps more than he rightfully should. Skinship is not something Genichiro is familiar with, but he ingrains each moment the Wolf has a hold on him, be it incidental or purposeful. The heat of his real flesh or the cold bone of his prosthetic limb is grounding. In the seven years he’d spent alone aiming nothing more than to return to Ashina to slay the demon, the Wolf is the first one to extend a hand to him and did not let go. And Genichiro may have clung onto that without realizing it, as feelings of desire that had little to do with his wish of saving Ashina grows stronger.

There is some shame that follows his acknowledgement of that particular feeling, along with desperation and sadness. He wonders what could have been different if both of them took on divergent paths, if they had met each other earlier, or if the Wolf had been successful in rescuing the Divine Heir. 

Most likely Genichiro would be dead, along with Ashina. And maybe that would be much preferable than this agony he is going through. Between his desire and his honour, Genichiro can't even make a choice. 

He must appear pathetic right now, Genichiro thinks. He is sure if his grandfather or mentor were to see him now, they would be disappointed and ashamed. How low has the line of Ashina fallen to. The sky above crackles with the roar of thunder, as if agreeing with him. It earns a tired laugh from Genichiro.

He finally stops at the valley bridge between the outskirts and the castle. He longs to visit Lady Tomoe’s grave, but even that has been ground to dust. Genichiro feels particularly alone amongst the ruins, and only the heavy grey night sky above accompanies him. He wonders if the Wolf has returned to the dilapidated temple after taking the Mortal Blades away. He must have taken those back to the Divine Child, who is the only one who can truly keep the swords hidden away.

He wonders if the Wolf would be upset to find him missing, that Genichiro is still stubborn and would proceed with his plan.  Would he let the man be, or would he come looking for Genichiro?

Even as he ponders on it, Genichiro expects the footfalls that he hears behind him. 

“Genichiro.” The Wolf has a low voice. Rough, and sometimes dangerous. He does not speak much, but his words always carry weight. It is a welcome sound.

“You will have to cut me down if you want to stop me,” Genichiro says humorlessly. He is half-hearted about it, but he really has no other plans than to do this. It would be a fitting end for him, he thinks.

“You are a fool,” the Wolf says. Genichiro can't help but let out an amused scoff. He knows the other man speaks the truth. He is a fool, and this fool can't bear to look at the one-armed Wolf. He hears the Wolf step forward. “Listen to what I have to say.”

Genichiro waits for the coming words, but instead he feels an arm wrap around his waist. The arm is slender, and it reminds Genichiro how much smaller the other man is. Yet his presence had been so large. He feels the Wolf press himself against Genichiro's back and realizes the man is not wearing his prosthetic.

Essentially, the Wolf had come to him without a weapon. Willingly vulnerable and open. It’s a thought that makes Genichiro shudder.

“I do not want you to die,” the Wolf says. “And there is much more for you than just Ashina. She is gone, and you should let her rest.”

The Wolf's body warmth bleeds through the cloth of his kimono separating them. The Wolf continues to talk, his voice muffled as he speaks into Genichiro’s back. “I can only thank that your loyalty to her brought you back. And in turn,  _ you _ brought me back. I wish to do the same for you.”

Genichiro stiffens from his words. They are the harsh truths; Ashina is long gone, and his obsession towards her is fruitless. It may have been fated that the land is to fall, and that he was spared. Genichiro had always thought that he was left alive as punishment for his incompetence and lack of power. But maybe, this was his fate instead. To free the land from its demons and allow a new power to take over.

The Ministry may not deserve the sacred land, but perhaps it is far better than leaving it untouched and to rot. Genichiro lets out a shaky sigh as relief and understanding sinks in. The Wolf’s words are warm and true, bringing back an emotion he thought had been long gone. It's a feeling reminiscent of the moment Isshin Ashina pulled him out of the battlefield as an orphan and welcome him into the family. 

A place to belong.

He places his own hand over Wolf's, threading their fingers together. The former shinobi’s hand may be calloused and scarred, but it fits in his perfectly. There is no shame in it this time. The Wolf squeezes their hands together. Genichiro returns those words to the Wolf with a wistful smile. 

“Thank you.”


	8. Chapter 8

The Wolf’s presence is quiet and distant. One might call him cold. But he is the opposite of that.

His body runs hot, his build solid and lean despite how much smaller he is compared to Genichiro. His remaining hand is rough with scars and calluses, not unlike his own, but it has a strong, good grip and likes to find its way in Genichiro’s hold. It is such a small gesture, yet it always leaves the larger man assured, like he’s holding onto an immovable pillar.

Genichiro curls his body towards the source of warmth beside him. He hears the quiet noise the Wolf makes and he responds by pulling the man closer. They no longer need to brave the cold alone in the dilapidated temple. The Wolf shifts and slots his body against Genichiro's. Their limbs are tangled together but it is far more comfortable than it looks. Despite both of them used to sleeping and resting alone, they took to bed sharing far easier and quicker than expected.

Perhaps they just did not realize how much they yearned for the touch of another, along with  the mutual understanding of a kindred spirit.

Genichiro has known he is physically attracted to the man; the former shinobi is conventionally attractive, with his sharp and masculine features and strong brows. The white marking on his hair and face only further complements his image, and Genichiro has a fondness for tracing the faded scar that cuts across the edge of the Wolf's left brow.

The Wolf, meanwhile, enjoys making full use of Genichiro's larger frame, latching onto the man for warmth and shelter. He's even admitted that his foster father used to do the same when he was a child despite the late shinobi’s strict discipline. Genichiro hadn't been sure of the comparison, but eventually he had grown to like that he is a source of comfort for the other.

The Wolf is often the one to initiate skinship, though he appears both hesitant on when to do so. Neither of them are skilled in intimacy, having been by themselves for a good portion of their lives. Genichiro has had experience, but they were too long ago and burned away by memories of the war and chaos. He finds that the smaller man likes to reach for his hand, usually to stop him from holding his sword for too long or too tightly; a habit Genichiro has yet to abandon.

The first time their lips meet is when the Wolf stares at him a beat too long. The flick of his gaze to Genichiro’s mouth, and the larger man takes that as an invitation. The Wolf is clumsy with his tongue which shows his lack of experience, but it is a thought that further incenses him, swallowing the man’s taste and sounds from his mouth. Soon enough, Genichiro pulls the Wolf for kisses whenever the former shinobi throws him a look that Genichiro has learned to easily read.

Genichiro finds that he likes to hold the former shinobi’s smaller face in his hand, brush his lips over his stubbled jaw and listens to the quiet breaths that escapes him. The Wolf tastes of nature and a light tang of iron. His sweat and scent is musk and salt, heavy and heady. Genichiro enjoys the contrasting coolness of the man's prosthetic on his own skin, but prefers the warmth of the other’s flesh overall.

Their intimacy heals them of old wounds and buried emotion. A bliss neither ever expected in their lives when they were born and raised from the battlefields and amongst death. It is a strangely freeing thought, and Genichiro doesn’t mind himself clinging to the one source of fixture, familiarity and comfort in his life now. The Wolf is always there in the temple, sculpting away on his wooden blocks though they are no longer only of idol statues. They are better made now, with Genichiro's guidance, and the few Buddha idols he does carve have minute smiles and gives off a serenity that wasn't there before.

The pair prefers to keep themselves in the dilapidated temple. They still get the occasionally passing merchant, monk or agent, but they do not stay longer than a couple of days.

Eventually, the Ministry does arrive to claim the cleared land that was once Ashina. Fortunately, the temple is far enough away from the mainland that they are not discovered… Yet.

It is still difficult to watch the takeover happen and acknowledge it, but the Wolf has his arms around Genichiro and keeps him in place, his low, rough voice in his ear assuring the man that is alright to let go.

Nightmares of fire still plague the former lord, but they occur less often. He tends to sleep through the night when he knows the Wolf is nearby, when he can hear the soft breathing or the knocking of wood being chiselled in the silent dilapidated temple. Genichiro feels lighter, but wonders if he is doing anything for the other man. He can’t read the former shinobi as well as he’d like, what with the Wolf's usually stoic expression.

“Are you… Do you still see flames?” Genichiro inquires. He watches the other carefully.

“No,” the former shinobi replies. “I haven’t seen or thought of them for a while.” Genichiro sees that the man is not lying. He feels relieved.

“Come with me,” he says as he stands. He offers his hand to the Wolf, who takes it without a thought. Their hands are warm.

Genichiro brings him to the silvergrass field, the one beyond the castle. The place where their fates first clashed, and perhaps in another life, would have ended as well. Genichiro realizes their hands are still clasped together, but he doesn’t let go. He just feels a little warmer than he should.

It’s midday and the sun hovers high in the sky. It has been clear recently, and the warm weather gives them a sense of comfort and leisure. The bridge beyond the field is somewhat beckoning. A path away from bad memories and to a new life. Genichiro is still unsure of it, and when he glances to the Wolf, the man is staring at the bridge as well and he wonders if he is thinking the same.

“I still dream of this place,” Wolf tells him when he sees Genichiro looking. Genichiro remembers him having said so before. That it was calming. It’s good that it still is, untouched by the damage and wounds of war on the other side of the castle wall. “Sometimes, I dream of you here.”

Genichiro frowns at the man’s deadpan delivery of such an embarrassing statement. He wonders if the former shinobi is even capable of teasing him. Seeing the unchanged expression on the Wolf, Genichiro shakes his head and releases his hand from the Wolf’s. He feels the other squeeze his grip just a little but lets go, though neither of them says anything about it.

“Do you want to leave this place?” Genichiro asks instead as they both walk through the tall grassy field. He brushes his fingertips over the silvergrass.

“Are you willing to leave Ashina?” the Wolf questions back. Genichiro pauses, but looks to the Wolf.

“This place is no longer Ashina,” he says. His eyes lower as he looks to the soil. He wonders if the land still holds its sacred power. But he no longer has any control over it, nothing he can really do other than keep his knowledge about the secrets of the land with him. The Interior Ministry had been coveting the land’s power, but since the land has been dead for a while, the knowledge should be gone with it. It is best he brings his own information on the land to his grave as well. He notices the Wolf’s gaze still fixed on him. Patient and waiting for the man to continue. “I can leave this place now.”

The Wolf nods with a slight upturn of his lips. Genichiro does not hide his gaze on them. “Would you go with me? I do not have a plan where we can go, but… somewhere new would be a good change,” Genichiro says. His invitation is abrupt; Genichiro hadn’t planned to ask the man like this, but seeing his smile lets the words slip out of Genichiro’s mouth. He is nervous about the other man's answer.

“I don’t know where an old one-armed wolf can go,” the Wolf replies slowly. He’s not wearing the shinobi prosthetic. The left sleeve of his robes hangs limply. “But if you’d have me, I would like to join you.”

Genichiro smiles. “Of course.”

The tension between them have eased. It is clear the two of them have feelings for each other, but beyond intimate touches and the brief kisses, they have yet to explore. It’s something that isn’t really needed; the comfort of another’s body warmth is mostly enough and keeps them grounded and sated. Genichiro especially welcomes it, and it seems to be the same for the Wolf. Either sex or ‘love’ is not something they are comfortable in talking about yet; Genichiro has more tact than to ask or talk about it and he does not even know if the other could do more than what they’ve done.

It is not uncommon for men to lay with another, but it is usually something strictly physical. When it comes to something more emotional, Genichiro is far out of his depth. Being men of blood and war has left them lacking in these matters.

But it’s the Wolf who starts it. In the darkness of the temple with only the single candle and the moonlight streaming through the holes in the walls, the Wolf hovers over Genichiro like a shadowy guardian beast. He nearly startles at the reflective light from the former shinobi’s eyes; the shinobi call it the Night Eye, and it further proves that these men of shadow are more beast than human. Not that Genichiro isn't a beast himself in the battlefield.

“What is it?” Genichiro asks, his voice hoarse from sleep. He was about to doze off, with his head resting on the other man's lap while he tinkers with his sculptures. It's been the usual routine for both of them.

The Wolf doesn't respond at first, observing Genichiro. The man leans down to kiss him, pressing their lips together before sneaking a tongue in. Genichiro parts his mouth open and welcomes it with a quiet hum. He wonders what is in Wolf's mind.

A hand cups Genichiro's jaw, thumb caressing at his stubble and slowly the hand slides down his chin, past his neck and further down the open collar of his robes. Genichiro shivers and reluctantly pries the Wolf away mumbling questions.

“What are you…” he tries to ask, but the Wolf continues to hush him with more kisses, occupying his mouth with his own.

Genichiro is still mellow from his near-sleep, but he brings his hand up to lightly hold onto the Wolf's roaming hand.

“What are you doing,” Genichiro persist, his grip on the wrist just a little tighter. The Wolf huffs, a mild look of annoyance on his face.

“I am trying to touch you,” Wolf says simply.

“I - Are you sure?” The incredulous look he receives from the other man’s face is almost amusing. Genichiro sits up and faces the Wolf properly. It is dark, but his eyes have adjusted enough to see that the Wolf even has his hair down, which is a rare sight to see. It only makes the former lord even more anxious - and warm.

Genichiro finds himself rather flustered. It has been a while, and the heated look in the Wolf’s eyes sends a chill of anticipation through him. It’s not unlike his gaze in the heat of battle, when they’re eager to cut each other down to achieve their goals. Perhaps that’s the feeling they get when they meet a respected rival, the eagerness to clash swords and draw energy and blood from one’s opponent.

The Wolf comes over to his lap, his smaller frame fitting almost perfectly there. His arm slides over his shoulder as he leans down again for another kiss. This time Genichiro doesn't stop him, reciprocating by placing his hands over Wolf's hips. The Wolf kisses eagerly, with little nips to his tongue and bottom lip that Genichiro can't help but moan quietly. As they kiss, he feels Wolf slide his collar open, tugging down his robes to reveal his scarred chest. Genichiro does the same, his rough hands slipping into Wolf's clothes and undoing them.

They are both keen, but they take their time. Genichiro, especially, is more gentle than he thought he'd be. Perhaps not wanting to scare the Wolf off.

“Have you done this before?” Wolf makes a noncommittal noise, distracting Genichiro with a bite to his neck as he brings his mouth lower over Genichiro's body. Genichiro doesn't persist with the question; men are particularly sensitive when it comes to such things but he is not sure if it's the same for those raised as shinobi.

Wolf's answer comes late and a little quiet, but it's honest and Genichiro appreciates it nonetheless. “Not really,” the Wolf says. Genichiro reaches over to tangle his fingers in the man's hair, swiping his palm over the white hair and marking over the skin of his temple. “Does it matter?”

The Wolf's eyes glint with something unreadable. Genichiro shakes his head. “No, as long as you are doing this with me.”

What he says seems to earn the approval of the smaller man who resumes his lips’ path over Genichiro's body. He leaves open mouthed kisses over his chest, torso, even licking at the old burns. Genichiro hadn't realized how sensitive they were. He watches quietly, almost in a trace at how the Wolf is taking the reins, naturally and confidently. He wonders if the man had been thinking about doing this for a while, and the thought flatters him. He had not missed the lingering touches and heated gazes the other had shot his way.

He tenses when the Wolf's face hovers over his hips. The former shinobi senses his hesitance, glancing his dark eyes at Genichiro but proceeds, albeit slowly. He's already pulled away the sash and the hakama, leaving only the undergarment that barely hides the impressive bulge of the larger man's growing arousal. Interestingly, this would be the first time either of them will see each other naked despite the time together. Genichiro almost regrets they don't wash up together in the river and get a peek, but this is good too. He gets to see the Wolf bare himself to him in an intimate setting like this. Willing and sensual, almost teasing.

The loincloth is pulled away. The Wolf does not stop or slow his ministrations. His left stump presses lightly against his thigh to keep them apart, the other arm has his hand pushing down on Genichiro's stomach to keep him from moving. His mouth is already on Genichiro's member, lavishing attention on it that Genichiro didn't expect to receive.

The former lord bites his lip to hold back the sounds that threaten to escape. His fingers in Wolf's hair curl into a fist, gripping the man's locks as he bobs his head along the length. The Wolf is adaptive and learns fast; his kisses and licks were stuttered and unsure at first, but he leans into it, taking in Genichiro's taste.

“Mh-!” Genichiro grunts. He feels something pressing into his rear. His eyes meet Wolf's. Said man pulls his mouth away, leaving a silver string of saliva between them. It's an image that would make Genichiro moan out if he hadn't been biting down his lip furiously.

“May I?” the Wolf murmurs, licking his lips. The man is sure and his gaze is steady. He knows what he wants. Genichiro can't help but be both impressed and attracted by it. He gives the man a scowl but he nods, earning a hum and a kiss to his temple. Genichiro almost hates how easy such gestures are able to warm his skin.

“Let me please you as well,” Genichiro says, stopping the man before he can return to what he was doing. He can prep himself while he gets to taste the former shinobi, _finally_ , and sate his thirst and desire to know of it.

Wolf fully disrobes as well. His shaft is hard, standing upright and his size is considerable. Genichiro cannot take his eyes off him, as if trying to memorise every detail. There are numerous scars littering the man’s lean body, most of them faded, while some appear recent. But they don’t mar his appearance; instead, they give him a rugged and weathered look, typical of a veteran warrior. Genichiro is sure he has left many scars on the man too, especially that stump on his arm. He feels wrong to think that he’s glad that their first battle ended with this; it did not stop the former shinobi but fueled his desire to save his lord and bring their paths together again.

Even with all those years of pain and loss… It has been quite a journey.

Genichiro is brought out of his thoughts when the Wolf comes closer to him again. The larger man takes this moment to explore the Wolf with his hands, feel every texture, scar, curve and feature on him. He feels the taut musculature and the sturdy frame of his body and it arouses Genichiro that he gets to know the man so intimately like this. He can’t help but kiss along the man’s shoulder. He reaches down to take hold of Wolf’s member, stroking languidly.

Hearing the man moan in his ear leaves him almost breathless. Up close, the Wolf is beautiful in a masculine way. He takes in every detail: the shine of sweat on his brow, the furrow in between them, the angle of his cheekbones and the shape of his thin lips. Genichiro wants to taste them often. He leans in for another kiss while his hands keep busy. He feels the Wolf’s one arm rubbing along his spine. Genichiro reaches back and touches himself, quite nervous since he’s dry.

“Here,” the Wolf nudges a bottle of - oil? Genichiro narrows his eyes at the man judgingly, but the Wolf remains impassive. Only a slight flicker of his eyes gives way to a glimpse of embarrassment. Genichiro takes the bottle and uses its contents to lubricate himself. He takes it slow, making sure to stretch himself properly with one digit and then two. He leans on the Wolf while his other hand strokes his member. He knows the Wolf is watching him, and he seems to like what he sees as Genichiro can feel his shaft throb in his grip. It’s hotter than he expects.

Genichiro lets slip a restrained moan as his fingers push in deep enough. He knows where's the good spot, but he also wants the stretch. He feels parched, licking at his dry lips and tries to fit in another finger. The Wolf holds him by the rest, making the man look up.

Seeing the other man's heated gaze, Genichiro swallows and allows the Wolf to re-position him. He's pushed onto his back rather gently, his head pillowed by their pile of clothes. His body is splayed out, hips now on Wolf's lap who sits on his heels between Genichiro's thighs. It's a view that Genichiro won't ever forget. Unable to help himself, he holds his own cock and strokes himself, locking his eyes on the Wolf's.

He sees the fire in the Wolf's eyes. Much like a starved beast the Wolf pounces on him. He takes the oil and soon enough he's plunging fingers into Genichiro with ease. His fingers are slimmer, but they're long and curl just nice in him that makes Genichiro's eyes flutter shut.

The Wolf's mouth is on his, swallowing every little noise the larger man makes. His fingers thrust in fast and deep, causing Genichiro to wriggle his hips just a little, wanting more of them. The brush of canines on his tongue only makes Genichiro's cock twitch but the Wolf is fingering him for too long. Even with the three fingers in him, Genichiro feels unsatisfied. He tugs the Wolf's head by the pull of his hair, managing to catch the impatient snarl on his face at the interruption.

Genichiro would have smirked if he wasn't feeling so needy right now. “Get inside me,” he hisses, nibbling on the Wolf's lip. The Wolf acknowledges his demand with a ghost of a pleased smirk. His long fingers are withdrawn slowly - to tease him, Genichiro is sure, but he knows not to let that whine in the back of his throat escape just so he won't get to see the smugness on the shinobi’s face. He knows his own cheeks are flushed, and Genichiro doesn't remember the last time he was this stimulated. He feels the hunger and desire claw from inside him needily. It's a startling revelation to himself that he would still harbour such lust when he long believed he had no need for them.

Genichiro can only blame the Wolf, whose eyes are dark with the same want. His one arm curls around Genichiro's shoulder and cradles his head as they kiss, again and again. Genichiro relaxes as the man pressed the tip of member at his prepared entrance. He'd been waiting for this.

The initial stretch is always the hardest, but once that's past Genichiro can only moan. He feels himself dig fingers into the Wolf's back but the smaller man does not stop. His thrusts are deep and steady; Genichiro arches his back at the feeling of the man's entire length pushed into him, filling him and reaching spots he didn't think one could reach. His thighs shudder slightly but Wolf remains fixed, his body an anchor for Genichiro to hold on to.

_This is good_ , Genichiro thinks. _This pleasure of belonging_.

“Your life is mine,” he hears himself say. It's a statement which brings Wolf out of his pleasured focus, his eyes bright as he looks back at Genichiro. For a moment, Genichiro fears he has misspoken. The Wolf is only loyal to one master, even if that pledge is void now. He wouldn't -

“Yours,” the Wolf replies, not breaking the eye contact.

Genichiro doesn't get a chance to speak - the Wolf muffles whatever he has to say with his mouth. His kisses are heated and yearning, the slide of his tongue exploring and reaching into his mouth with a type of want that makes Genichiro soften. The former lord can only cling onto the man's smaller frame, welcoming his every thrust and the pleasure that brings him.

It doesn’t take much nor does it take long for both of them to reach their climax. The temple is silent save for the soft, heavy breathing of the two men. Genichiro still has his arms around the smaller man, his hand resting on Wolf’s back, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. He can feel the pumping heartbeat through their bodies too. It feels nice.

The Wolf nuzzles into Genichiro’s jaw and it appears much like the man is snuggling. Genichiro does not move away from it. They rest to catch their breath before they move to get themselves cleaned up.

“This… is an inappropriate place to have done this,” Wolf suddenly says, realizing it only after. Genichiro snorts, rubbing at his eyes.

“Not that different from the blasphemous things we’ve done,” Genichiro adds unhelpfully. The Wolf sighs in defeat.

 

\-----+-----

 

They still visit the Divine Child. The young woman is more welcoming to Genichiro with each visit. She likes to comment on the lack of furrow on the Wolf's brow and the looseness of Genichiro's shoulders. The former lord does not appreciate her teasing, but the Wolf assures her that he is only fronting. The girl can see how much both of them have changed, and for the better. She would send them away with her harvests of rice whenever she is able and they gift her with what crafts they make in their time of leisure, or present her whatever sweet fruits they can find in the forests.

The Divine Child is their last reminder of a common past and curse.

She once asks, “Do you not wish to dispel the curse of immortality?” She looks to both of them, even at Genichiro. The former lord can't answer her, but he looks to the Wolf. The Wolf shakes his head.

“We will live with what we were given. If it is fated, then we will dispel it,” Genichiro answers her for the both of them. The young woman nods with a smile. She looks to the pillar of light outside which leads to the Halls of Illusion, knowing that there might still be a way, but the choice is theirs.

“If you ever need my assistance, I will gladly offer you my help,” she promises the both of them. And they offer her the same.

Genichiro finally tells Wolf of his former Lord's fate. That Kuro has grown to a fine young man fulfilling his dream of having his own sweets shop. The Wolf's expression visibly clears upon hearing it and he gives a smile that leaves Genichiro guilty for withholding the information. But the Wolf rewards him with a soft kiss that makes the larger man forget about it. The Wolf does not ask or mention about the Divine Heir anymore, as if he’s made his peace. Somehow, that makes Genichiro relieved.

After it is clear that the Interior Ministry has settled in the land, it is time for them to leave.

The dilapidated temple is soon discovered along with the tunnel that once connected to the Ashina castle. The entire area is demolished and cleared. The men of the Ministry finds something buried in the back of the old temple - two finely made swords and what seems like the disassembled parts of a prosthetic arm.

They say a Shura has three faces, though many do not know why. Perhaps they each represent facing phases of one’s life - the past, the present and the future. Or maybe they represent three facets of its wrath - envy, disloyalty and greed. No one knows, but it is a fact that the Shura are born out of war, violence and the astrayed hearts of man. Perhaps these beliefs and possibilities have some truth in them and hold as lessons for others. Maybe overcoming them could be a cure for the Shura.

The Divine Child remains the rest of her life at Senpou Temple. The temple remains untouched by the Ministry, for now, but she foresees that the land will flourish regardless. The Mortal Blades are still in her possession, guarded and kept away. She looks at a particular statue on her altar. A wooden sculpture depicting a tiger and a wolf playing. It is rather finely made, and appears to have had a lot of time and care put into it.

She does not hear from the sculpture's makers but she truly believes they are well. She presses her palms flat together and closes her eyes in prayer. They deserve all the peace and rest in their long lives ahead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me till the end! I hope you enjoyed the ending. I appreciate all of you who have taken the time to leave kudos and comments; truly, they keep me going! And I hope to write more to contribute to this pairing.
> 
> \- Much love, Kaz.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to ActualHurry (HEY if you haven't already read their Genikiro fic Eye for an Eye, go read - it's glorious, just go), Magiciansdead, LyricalMimi, DoujinMaster, CuanMan, Thisismyshame, WorldsJunk at twitter for indulging in my spamming of Genikiro tweets. I am forever grateful for the love you show at my disgusting, desperate Genikiro ramblings.
> 
> I spam tweets and sometimes drawings of Genichiro/Wolf aka Genikiro aka Sekichiro on my [twitter](https://twitter.com/kamikaze43v3r).


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